The Island
by TheKnittingLady
Summary: Sometimes the truth is hidden behind a veil of secrets. When those secrets are told Spencer Reid and Aaron Hotchner will have their lives changed forever.
1. Chapter 1

_**Part 1 - Family**_

_In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future._

_- Alex Haley_

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

**Day 01**

"Where's Reid?" Hotch asked.

Dave Rossi was over in the break area, filling his coffee mug. He was thinking about the consult back on his desk. He wasn't entirely certain they were on the right track there.

"I haven't seen him today." JJ said.

"Me neither." Kate added.

Hotch frowned and pulled out his phone.

Dave stirred a little cream into his coffee. No sugar, his doctor had told him to avoid carbs, more or less. He told his doctor he was Italian, carbs were a national pastime. But he really didn't need sugar in his coffee, especially not this stuff.

"What's going on?" Morgan asked.

"No Reid." JJ replied.

"Oh hell."

"He's not answering." Hotch said.

"That can't be good." Kate said.

Dave stepped over to the group, drawn in at last. "It never is when he breaks pattern. So, Kate, want to go with me and track him down?"

"Um sure." She said.

"When you find him let him know he's grounded." Hotch said.

"Yes, Dad." Dave chuckled, dumped out coffee that wasn't worth saving, and escorted Kate to the elevator.

"So why did you ask me to come along?" Kate asked once they were in the car. "I mean everyone else knows Reid a lot better than I do."

"Let me wait to answer that after we see if anything is going on."

* * *

><p>Capitol Plaza Apartments were just a few blocks from Union Station. Dave parked there and they walked over, using the spare key Reid left at the office to let them in once no one answered a knock. "It's a studio?" Kate asked.<p>

"Yeah. Just him. I hate to do this." But Dave pulled on gloves, just in case.

"Studios in this part of town are less expensive than you would think. No amenities, older buildings, he must sleep on the couch." She stepped into the tiny kitchen as she pulled on her own gloves. "There's a pot on a timer. It's off but still warm, and full."

"His bag's here." Dave peeked inside, spotted a book and a pile of candy bars. "He rarely goes anywhere without that."

"Does he keep his badge in there?"

"I don't know."

Kate sighed, sat on the floor in front of a wing chair, and started emptying it out. "A book, pencils, a note pad covered in...what the..."

"Those are zeta functions. He does something with them to relax."

"O-kay. A stationary set, a key ring, speedloaders loaded for a .357..."

"That's his primary. He said one time that a revolver helped his aim."

"...a handful of toiletry things and that is it. No wallet, no badge, no phone."

"He took those but left his keys?"

Kate considered this. "Let me check something." She took the keys and went to the door.

In the meantime Dave eyed the box on the end table. "If you were Reid what would you use as a four digit combo?"

"I don't know him that well." She was trying keys in the door. "But for anyone in the unit I'd start with the last four of Garcia's phone number."

Dave entered those and the box opened. "His primary's still here." He said, eyeing the revolver lying in its shaped slot inside the gun case. "But it looks like there's another one missing."

"None of these keys fit this door." Kate said, coming back. She looked at the shaped slot in the foam lining of the box, pulled her own gun and compared the two. "A Glock I think, but a smaller one. Maybe a 26. Okay, so he took his wallet, his badge, a smaller weapon, a house key and was coming back for coffee. I'm thinking he went for a run."

"That's why I brought you with me." Dave said.

"Um, huh?"

"Lately I've been getting the feeling that people back in the office are settling. They're no longer seeing each other as much as they're seeing the constructs of each other; they're seeing the image they have of that person, not who the person really is. Especially with Reid. For some reason they almost get annoyed when he breaks that construct."

"What's the construct?"

"Little brother. Overgrown boy genius. And what's funny is that it seems like he's encouraging it, or at least playing into it. I swear sometimes I think he's become less mature the longer I know him."

"You know, I was wondering about that." Kate said. "When you look at him in the field he's competent, confident, very sure of his skills and his facts. And his body language reflects that, he stands tall, speaks with a crisp clarity, looks you in the eye. Then he turns to the team and his whole affect changes, his voice gets softer, his shoulders pull down, he doesn't look you in the eye. His affect goes from strong young agent to whipped kid trying to, I don't know, appease a bully or something."

"Did he ever tell you about his girlfriend, Maeve Donovan?"

"Was she the one who was shot?"

"Yep. He had a relationship with her for over a year, but he never told anyone except Alex Blake. He was afraid Morgan and JJ would tease him mercilessly over it. And they would have. Even now they don't accept that it was serious."

"Really? She was shot right in front of him!"

"Two weeks after it happened, while he was still on bereavement leave, Morgan called him up to get him to come help with a case out in San Francisco because Garcia wasn't happy with him not talking to anyone."

Kate nodded. "And he needed to stop fooling around and scaring important people. I get it."

Dave nodded. "Last year Reid and Garcia were supposed to take a fitness test. Morgan got it waved then spent an afternoon making them work out just for his own amusement."

"Nice. And a child genus in public schools? Likely not the first time he was bullied by a jock. If I was Reid I'd want to start working out so that the next time it came around I could pass. Preferably by bettering Morgan's time on everything, just to rub it in. And I wouldn't say a word."

"I agree." Dave turned to the neat but full desk. "So, if you were Reid where would you run?"

"Wherever Morgan doesn't go, so he wouldn't catch me." She moved to the desk and the cork board above it.

"Uh huh." Dave opened his phone and put it on speaker. "I have a question for you." He said when the phone was answered. "Where do you go running in the morning?"

"The Mall and the Tidal Basin." Morgan replied. "Why?"

"I'll let you know." Dave rang off and looked over at Kate. "What did you find?"

"A map to the National Arboretum. Which is exactly the opposite direction from the mall from here."

"Let's follow the map and go find him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

**Day 01**

They didn't find Reid in the park.

They canvassed the area. Some gardeners had already been at work that morning; sure enough they reported seeing someone fitting Reid's description among the walkers and runners that flooded the park at that time of day. They also reported a nondescript minivan seen in the area, but no one had bothered with the license plate, they figured a tourist. It wasn't until they got to the Visitor's Center that they had reason to call in help. "Sure enough." Will LaMontagine said as he got out of the car and joined Dave and Kate. He held up the two evidence bags, one with a Glock 26, one with a cell phone. "Couple of beat cops picked them up when the people here called it in. They thought they'd been tossed here, they were waiting for processing."

Damn it all. Dave nodded. "Let's go see where they found it."

The location in question was a quiet curve, well away from anything interesting, where the bushes grew close to the road. "Good place for an ambush." Kate pointed out. "The van could have driven out from here; someone could have gotten in behind him from there and surprised him."

"So we're looking at a team." Dave said. "Likely three people, a driver and two to get him into the van. They're organized and they were after him specifically."

"All right. Why?" Will asked.

"That is the question. Answer it and we'll find him."

* * *

><p>"Reid was running?" JJ asked when they got back to the office. "Are you sure?"<p>

"Yeah." Garcia replied. "He took it up after we were humiliated by the alternate trainer over our fit tests last year." She jerked her thumb at Morgan, who was looking very guilty. "He was working with a trainer too."

"Got a name for him?" Dave asked.

"Yeah. It's on my tablet."

"Tell me you're not running all over town." Morgan said to her. "Don't need you disappearing."

"Nope. I've been doing Zumba."

"This was a deliberate hit." Dave said. "Minimum of two people, more likely three. And this wasn't a crime of opportunity, other runners went by. They wanted him."

"Yeah, but why?" Morgan asked.

"Victimology on Reid." JJ said, "Ugh."

"This means someone was watching him." Kate said. "Maybe tracking him online?"

"Reid doesn't have an online." Garcia said. "He's mildly technophobic. He only uses them for work. But he also lectures you know."

"Yeah, we should check Georgetown." JJ said.

"Should check somewhere else too." Morgan said. "Might get Will to help."

JJ got it. "Yeah. He would."

"Going to clarify that?" Kate said.

"Maybe." Morgan said. But he was serious.

"We should check out a bug sweeper, go check his apartment." Dave said. "You never know."

* * *

><p>They had to bring a tech to go with the bug sweeper. "Oh yeah." She said as soon as she had the machine running.<p>

"Seriously?" Morgan said, looking over her shoulder. "Son of a..."

"But his phone wasn't tapped." Dave said. "Are those audio or video?"

"Both." The tech said.

"So private life, not public life." Kate said. She looked over at where Morgan was looking for one up in the top edge of the windowsill. "I assume that's a camera, if so it would mostly get the couch, not the rest of the room."

"Any other rooms in here?" The tech asked.

"Just the closet and bathroom." JJ said

"I'll check there." She gathered her gear and moved to the other room, Morgan trailing after.

"So what are you guys not telling me?" Kate asked quietly as soon as the tech was out of earshot.

"Reid had a problem a while back." Dave said. "Ever hear the phrase 'Friend of Bill'?"

Kate's surprise was evident. "AA?"

"NA." JJ said. "It started on a case, an Unsub shot him up. It got away from him. He's been clean for, oh, seven years now. But I think he still goes to meetings from time to time."

"Some cases. I can see it." Kate nodded. "Good for him. His sponsor might know something though."

"My husband is with DC Metro. He might have a better time finding the closed cop meetings than we would."

"Son of a bitch!" Morgan said, coming out of the closet. "Guy was watching him in the shower too."

"Where he bathes and where he sleeps. Ew" Kate said. "This is very personal."

"But he doesn't care about work. I wonder if he cares about anyplace else." JJ asked.

"How would he know what places there are to care about?" Dave pulled out his phone. "Garcia, can you check something for me?"

"For my Junior G-man, anything."

"Can you see if anyone tried to get the GPS data off of Reid's phone?"

"One of my phones? Not a chance."

"But he would have to track him somehow." Kate said. "He would have picked up on a tail eventually."

"Not that hard to stick a GPS transmitter in a running shoe." Morgan said. "What else does he take with him?"

The answer was obvious. Kate picked up Reid's bag and sat on the floor again. She emptied it, checking each item carefully, then started looking at the bottom and sides. "Anyone have a knife?" JJ, of all people, pulled out a healthy sized folding utility knife. Kate used it to slit open the lining at the back corner, revealing circuitry. "Damn."

"He'd know Reid didn't take his bag running." JJ said. "He could tail him for that much. All he'd have to do is break in while Reid's out, set the cameras, put that in and leave. Then bug the running shoes the same way, there's usually a cavity in the soles that works for it."

"So now we know how he knows which places, now which places matter?" Dave said. "Let's see what Garcia can do with that. And with those cameras."

* * *

><p>Unfortunately the answer was not much. "Those cameras were dead." Garcia said. "He sent some kind of power surge through the circuitry, literally melted it so it couldn't be tracked back."<p>

That was disquieting. "What about the GPS chip?"

"That I was able to download and let me tell you, Reid is boring. He goes to work, he goes to lecture, he goes to attend lectures, he goes to the library and to the same gym where I go and to Giant Market, he goes to the museums sometimes and to Dupont Circle where they play a lot of chess and sometimes to this church where they have a private meeting going on at that time which I suspect is what you would suspect and that is it."

"This guy is interested in his private life." Dave said. "Is there any place not-public on this chip?"

"Will and JJ's house. He goes to baby-sit."

They all looked over at JJ. "No." She said quietly.

* * *

><p>"God damn it!" JJ said as she kicked a floor pillow.<p>

They had brought the tech to her house to sweep for bugs. Sure enough, bedrooms, bathrooms, and couches were all being watched. "Not the boy's room." The tech said.

"Small favors." Will muttered. He looked over at Dave. "Think we're on the list? They targeting the team?"

"I don't know." Dave said. "But I think we're going to check everyone, just in case. "


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Day 02**

No one else was being watched. No GPS chips were found anywhere in Will and JJ's belongings. The cameras they found had also been melted. "So why was he watching us?" JJ asked the next morning.

"I'm not sure." Dave replied.

"You're thinking something though." Morgan said. "Don't hold back."

"Let me make a call first." He went to his office, closed the door, and called the number he had found the night before. "Good morning. Before you ask no, he's not back."

"Damnit!" Alex Blake said.

"Has he been seeing anyone? Would you know?"

"Likely I would I think but he hasn't said anything. He mourned Maeve for a long time; he only indicated he was ready to move on the night I left the Bureau. Knowing him he hasn't even been really looking yet. "

"Huh. All right. Thanks Alex."

"You will keep me posted, right?"

"Of course Mom."

"Remember that." She hung up.

Dave rejoined the group in the conference room. "Well?" JJ asked.

Before Dave could answer Hotch walked in. "We have another problem." He said as he re-joined the group. The unit chief, Cruz, was with him.

"There's a woman missing in the district." Cruz said. "I just heard from the Director's office telling me to put my best team on the case. That's you people."

"We can't!" Morgan said. "We have an agent missing! That takes priority over everything!"

"Cramer called personally. Apparently his minister asked him for help."

"Which means our funding is at stake." Hotch said.

"We can split up." Dave said, trying to calm the situation down. "I'll take Kate and Kevin and work on this missing woman, play up the celebrity a bit, it'll help mollify whoever's watching. Aaron, you take Morgan, JJ and Garcia and dig into Reid's life. Someone somewhere has to know something."

Hotch nodded, "All right."

The four of them went off to get to work. Dave turned to Cruz. "So, who are we looking for?"

He passed over the file. "Clara Lee. She's 31, lives at 2029 Connecticut NW #32."

Dave opened it to find a very attractive woman, light brown hair, elfish features and a sweet smile. "Nice part of town."

"She works over in Congress Heights; she's the principal at Bishop Walker School."

"A private school principal?"

"Yeah."

"Right."

* * *

><p>On the way there Kevin called. "I have what I could find on Clara Lee." He said once Kate put him on speaker.<p>

"Give it up." She said.

"Clara Custis Lee, 31, born Clara Braxton and raised in Leesburg, Virginia. Wealthy family, private school. Washington and Lee University, dual BA in History and Mathematics, MA in Educational Theory, PhD from George Washington in Education specializing in teaching STEM. Looks like she legally changed her name in high school."

"So it's Dr. Lee?" Kate said.

"Yep. No known significant others."

"What about family?"

"I don't see any contact with her parents. Um...oh boy."

"Oh boy what oh boy?" Dave asked.

"Um, let me confirm this and call you back." Kevin rang off.

"Great."

* * *

><p>Mr. Parker was the assistant head of school at Bishop Walker. "I'll be honest." He said as they entered the office. "This is a tough neighborhood."<p>

"Ranked 22nd most dangerous in America as I recall," Dave replied.

"The National Center for Education Statistics, reported that in 2013, fourth grade students in the District of Columbia who performed at or above proficiency level in reading were a mere 23 percent and 28 percent in math." Mr. Parker said. "Black students, who make up 69 percent of the DC Public Schools population, scored an average 59 points lower than their white counterparts and 9 points lower than Hispanic students. Of the students evaluated, males consistently performed lower than females in reading and students eligible for free lunch scored an average 46 points lower than students who were not eligible. Often the young men in this community who do manage to achieve at a high academic level find themselves going it alone with limited peer support. Our mission is to give those young men the support they need to achieve, and hopefully through them lift the entire community. Given that I admit I had my doubts when the board hired a young white woman, a descendent of planter aristocracy, to lead the school."

"I assume your doubts were eased?" Dave asked.

"And more; Dr. Lee has not only lifted this school, she's been lifting the community. She's a big believer in personal discipline; she lives and breathes it every day. Through her example and leadership our students have gone further than ever. We have 99 percent of our students at proficiency, and last year we had a 100 percent college acceptance rate."

"In this neighborhood?" Kate asked.

"In this neighborhood. She's gone to bat with the city council, with the mayor, with the chief of police, with whoever she had to to get what this neighborhood needed, everything from upgrading the parks to real grocery stores that don't sell alcohol to a low-cost clinic. She even got our own bookmobile. And that's on top of running this school and nearly tripling our endowment."

"So everyone loves her?" Dave asked

"I cannot imagine anyone who would do this to her. Even the local gang leaders respect her. She accepts them as local leaders, for good or ill, and discusses the needs of the community with them."

"Someone did this to her. What about her personal life?"

Mr. Parker shook his head. "I can tell you she's not married. Otherwise she never brought it to school."

"Can we have a look at her office?"

"Right this way."

The principal's office was not as plush as Rossi's, was painfully neat and was utterly impersonal. The posters on the walls were of the motivational kind, speaking of discipline and self determination. Her desk was equally clean, all straight lines and right angles. There were no family pictures of any kind. "Did she keep anything personal in the office at all?"

"Only that," Mr. Parker gestured to a tea tray on the counter by a small sink. Dave floated over to have a look. It was of delicate bone china, lightly trimmed in platinum, with a small collection of ornate cups clustered around, and a basket of equally ornate teaspoons. There was also an electric kettle, and when Dave opened the cupboard just above he found a number of canisters of tea and a bottle of stevia drops. "No one touched her tea. That was her thing; whenever she was in she had tea. She changed the cups out fairly often; she must have quite a collection."

"You said she was a big believer in personal discipline." Kate said. "Do you know what she did before work?"

"Exercise," he pointed to one of the posters. "Mens sana in corpore sano. A strong mind in a strong body. She was a big believer."

"What did she like to do?"

"Bicycle. She participated in a number of events in the community around it."

"Where did she like to ride?"

"The Arboretum. She loves it up there, says it's quiet at that time of day."

Dave felt Kate look over at him. "Great, thank you." She said. "If we have any more questions..."

"Anything we can do."

"What are you thinking?" Kate asked as they walked back to the car.

"That a school administrator does not make enough to either live at that address or keep about a thousand dollars worth of china in her office. There's more going on here."

"Think it's just a coincidence that she and Reid were both in the arboretum?"

"Too soon to tell," Dave fished out his phone as it started ringing, "Yeah, Kevin."

"You need to come back to the office right now."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Day 02**

"What happened?" Dave asked as he walked into Hotch's office. "You look like you just got run over."

"DC Metro ran a DNA sample on Clara Lee." Hotch said. "It came up a fraternal match to someone in our database."

"Who?"

"Me."

You always expect a big lead up to something like this, Dave thought, some kind or portent or sign or perhaps fanfare. But no, just some guy down in the forensic lab looking at a test result and picking up the phone and there you are. "Well. This is news." He sat on the other side of the desk. "I assume you didn't know?"

"No. I called my aunt, she said about that time Dad was rumored to be having an affair with a debutant, Karen Waller."

Dave checked his file. "Karen Waller married Sam Braxton less than nine months before Clara was born. So either she was more than a little premature or..."

"The DNA test is right." Hotch shook his head. "I can't honestly say this surprises me, not the way Dad treated Mother. Cheating would be the least damaging thing he ever did to her. I didn't even know this woman existed. Now what do I do?"

"Well, if it's any help she's a very well respected school principal; excellent reputation, loved by the community."

"Hopefully I'll have a chance to get to know her." Hotch stared bleakly above his friend's head a long moment. "Which case do I focus on? Clara Lee is my sister, but I don't know her at all. Reid is my friend."

"You work both but take the lead on neither." Dave said. "Turn the investigation for Reid over to Morgan. He's not going to let it go anyway and he's had much better control over his temper lately. I'll keep working the Clara Lee case."

Hotch sighed, "All right. Morgan and JJ are interviewing people at Georgetown."

"We were about to go check out her apartment."

"I'll go."

* * *

><p>"I know this place." Hotch said as they stepped off the elevator into the entrance hall. "I think I've been here before."<p>

"I think this place is bigger than my house." Dave said

"I thought you lived in a mansion." Kate replied.

"I thought I did."

"Is this pre-war?" She asked Hotch as she pulled on her gloves.

"Pre First World War. Most of the furnishings are Edwardian." Hotch replied. "I think it belonged to my grandmother, Martha..." For a moment he smiled. "Martha Lee Hotchner. I haven't been here since I was a child; she had some falling out with my father. "

"There's not much in here."

"This is just the entry hall." The office had given them a floor plan, now he started pointing to the rooms, counter clockwise. "The bedrooms are down that way. The parlor is in the center, the library to the right and the dining room to the left. That way is the kitchen wing." All the doors were closed. He moved to the parlor and opened the pocket doors. Beyond was a shadowed room, the curtains closed against the light, the furniture covered in dust cloths. He moved to one and lifted it gently, "Looks like she kept the original furniture."

"But she's not using this room." Dave stepped to the doors that connected to the library and opened them, revealing another shadowed, covered room, "Or this one."

"No." Hotch turned and tried the door that connected to the dining room. It was also secured closed.

Kate came back from the hallway. "It looks like all the bedrooms are closed up. But it looks like there's a dining room table and chairs being stored in there."

"Which makes me think," Dave said from the hallway. He moved to the door to the kitchen wing, stepped into the short hall and then into the dining room. "Bingo."

Beyond was the former dining room, a large space with a working fireplace and ample light. Clara had turned it into a neat living room, a comfortable couch, TV, large desk with space for a computer in one corner, what looked like the original sideboard and china cabinet in another, bookshelves everywhere else. "Innovative." Hotch said.

"She didn't need all that space but she didn't want to sell it." Kate said. "So she set up close to the kitchen. Is there another entry into the apartment?"

"I don't remember." Hotch checked the map the management had provided, "The service elevator. It's off the kitchen."

"She probably uses that for her entryway. There's her collection of teacups." Dave said, nodding at the china cabinet. "That has some meaning to her."

Hotch looked at the collection with one of his inscrutable expressions. "Do we know where she went to high school?"

"No, but I can ask Kevin to look."

"Not yet."

Kate had moved on to the room next door. "Do you remember what this room was?"

He managed another of those small, hard to read smiles. "It's listed as the nursery. I vaguely remember bunk beds."

"Now she's using it as her bedroom."

Dave stepped past them into the kitchen, "I'm impressed, this is bigger than mine. Original cabinets from the look of it, but new appliances. Look at this." There was a lab balance on the counter. "Someone takes dieting seriously. Like the breakfast nook. Is this the hallway to the servant's entrance?"

"Yes." Hotch followed him down. "That would have been the maid's room. These big apartments came with servants.

Dave switched on the lights and stepped out of the way. "Now it's a home gym. Nice place. We should go through her desk, send her computer information back to Kevin." He said.

"This feels wrong." Hotch said, "Like having a phantom limb waking up. She's a part of my life and yet I don't even know her."

"You will. From the sound of it Jack will have one impressive Aunt to add to the ones he already has."

"Hey Hotch." Kate said, coming back through to the dining room. "Does genius run in your family?"

"Why do you ask?"

She pulled out her phone and called Kevin on speaker. "Kevin, can you check Clara Lee's educational record, see if she ever took an IQ test?"

"Sure."

"Why are you asking?" Dave asked. In reply Kate handed him a slender notebook, a Japanese design with colored pages. Dave opened it and found page after page of very familiar mathematical equations. "Zeta functions."

"It was on her nightstand."

"They are supposed to be very relaxing."

"Found it!" Kevin said from the phone. "She took a test back in high school, IQ of 180. Isn't that up around Dr. Reid?"

"Two geniuses go missing from the Arboretum on the same morning." Dave said. "What are the odds?"

Hotch looked even more grim than before. "This is all one case."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Day 02**

"What do we have?" Hotch asked when they returned.

"Spencer Reid, thirty-three, certified genius, five degrees of various kinds from CalTech and MIT, full-time FBI agent, part time lecturer, no current relationships." Dave said. "Clara Lee, thirty, certified genius, degrees from George Washington and Washington & Lee, school principal, no current relationships. Both disappeared from the National Arboretum between seven-thirty and eight AM yesterday morning. If you figure in the DC Metro report both showed signs of a similar blitz attack. What are the odds?"

"But the only thing they have in common is...being really smart?" Kevin asked.

"There has to be something else." Morgan said. "The Unsub was looking for highly intelligent people, he found these two. Where? Somewhere their paths must have crossed."

"That's where you two come in. Garcia, you take Reid, Kevin you take Clara. Go over their electronic trails, find where they crossed paths." Hotch said.

"Uhhh, Sir." Garcia said. "Reid doesn't have a personal electronic trail. He does everything hard-copy old-school."

Rossi sighed, "Looks like someone gets to go start reading our way through his apartment. Anyone know a fast reader?"

"Other than Reid?" JJ asked

"It needs to be done." Hotch said.

Morgan and JJ hung their heads, but they went.

"Does that mean we get to go through her stuff?" Kate asked.

"That it does." Dave replied.

"What do I get to do?" Hotch asked.

"Call Sean, tell him what's going on. He's her brother too. Then come back with us, as a family member."

"Great."

* * *

><p>Dave and Kate got lucky. While Clara read a lot she was not a paper person. She owned a laptop, but from what Kevin could tell it was used for work. Her personal stuff was all on her tablet; she lived and died by that thing, perhaps literally. "Uhh, this might be a concern." He said when he called them next.<p>

"What is it Kevin?" Dave asked.

"One of her apps is called DiaConnect, it's a diary for tracking symptoms of Diabetes."

That could be a problem. "Any sign she was particularly brittle?" Hotch asked.

"No. Actually from what I could pick up on Google she's got it under tight control."'

"Can you get into her medical records, tell what she's taking for it?"

"I could but she has a list of her medications on her tablet. From the looks of it she's not taking anything for it."

"She's doing it the old-fashioned way." Kate said, "Diet and exercise." She nodded to the kitchen. "That's why the lab balance; I bet she weighs what she eats to the gram to keep track of her carbs."

"That's pretty much it." Kevin replied. "She also has MyFitnessPal, a food and exercise diary on here, she is, well, anal about eating and working out. But she has a list of other meds here. Something was definitely going on with her."

"Can you find her primary physician?" Hotch asked.

"Um...she doesn't have one listed...but you might try what looks to be her bestie...who is a hospitalist at Washington Medical."

"Good place to start." Kate said.

* * *

><p>Dr. Kim Chu was a physician in the trauma center at Washington Medical. "We were supposed to meet for lunch, when she didn't show I called the school and found out she hadn't come in that day. Apparently her vice called in a favor."<p>

They ran through the usual questions, any enemies, anything change recently, anyone she spoke of. Then Dave asked. "Are you her primary physician?"

"Not really. Her endo is really her primary but when she needs something small I help."

"Her endocrinologist? I know confidentiality is an issue but can you tell us anything about her condition?"

"She was in a car accident when she was young; her car seat wasn't fastened properly. Baby face planted the dashboard, ended up with a damaged pituitary gland. There's no way to fix it, treatment is replacing hormones at adequate levels so the body doesn't have to rely on the faulty signals coming from the gland."

"That caused her Diabetes?"

"It causes a reduction in the precursor hormone which leads to insulin resistance and to a much higher risk of Type 2. Add in parental neglect and yeah, she's been fighting it since high school."

"Why doesn't she just take medication?" Kate asked.

"Contraindicated in cases of pituitary damage. They'd have the opposite effect of making her more brittle instead of more stable."

"Ouch."

"So you two have known each other since high school?" Hotch asked.

"Yes. We were roommates."

"Foxwood Hall?"

Kim's eyebrow went up. "You're familiar?"

"She has a teacup collection."

That brought a small smile. "You know what that means then?"

"My mother attended Foxwood Hall."

"Did she ever give away a cup?"

"Can we get in on this conversation?" Dave asked.

"Foxwood Hall is an all-girl boarding school in southern Virginia." Hotch said. "It's a tradition that when the girls feel or learn that one of their own is being abused each of her friends gives her a teacup as a sign that she will always be welcome in their home."

"She was abused?" Dave asked.

"Her step-dad told everyone she was his whore. And I mean everyone, in great detail. By the time she hit high school he had completely trashed her reputation. And reputation is still very important among those people."

"Why?"

"Because she turned him down, with a baseball bat," Kim shook her head. "He tried to groom and coerce ever since she hit puberty but she saw through his bullshit. Finally one night he got drunk and tried rape and she fought back hard. Threatened to kill him if he ever tried again. In retaliation he bragged all over town about all the kinky crap he was doing to her. He built her quite the history."

"Her mother didn't do anything about it?" Kate asked

"Yeah, she got pissed because Clara turned her husband down. Once she moved to the school they cut off all contact. They didn't call to make arrangements for our first week-end home so my Mom agreed to drive her there. Turned out the house was empty, they had moved away without telling her."

"Did Child Protective Services get involved?" Kate asked.

"Old Tidewater families don't get involved with CPS. Her grandmother stepped in, kept the bills paid, kept in touch but she never went home again."

"Anything else would have risked embarrassing the family." Hotch said. "Keeping her away at school kept everything quiet."

Kim nodded. "She ended up taking her grandmother's maiden name because she said she was the only member of her family who deserved the title."

"At least she had that comfort." Dave said.

"Yeah, and she had us. She's always been one of the sweet ones, you know? Always there for others, always willing to help. But strong, organized, really smart. She said she got it from her great-great-great-grandfather, Robert."

"She did." Hotch said.

"Going to share?" Dave said.

"Not until I have a chance to talk to her, unless it looks to be germane to the case."

"Fair enough."

"What are your chances of finding her?" Kim asked.

Hotch smiled. "We've haven't lost one yet."

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>Casting note: As Dr. Kim Chu I cast Michaela Conlin, aka Angela from <em>Bones<em>


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Day 03**

"No offence Aaron, but your Dad was a jerk." Jessica said.

Hotch sighed. He had to go into the office today. With Reid missing no one was taking time off. But that meant asking his sister-in-law to watch Jack on her day off, which wanted some explanation. He ended up telling her about Clara Lee. "I know." He said. "Sometimes I think I've spent my entire life cleaning up after him. I thought with Sean finally healing we were past it, but now..."

"She seems like she's done a decent job of managing her own life."

Hotch hadn't said much about Clara' abusive childhood, of course. Abandonment was one thing, no need to further the rumors her step-father had started. Her teacup collection still bothered him. "Hopefully."

"Right now just focus on getting them both home. Do you think they were taken together?"

"It's likely; we just have to find the common denominator." He sighed, the only sign that the worry was getting to him. "I almost hope they were. Reid is a good agent, an excellent man in these situations. He'd protect her."

"Hopefully he won't have to for long. What are you going to tell Jack?"

"Nothing yet. When his new aunt comes back and is ready to meet him I'll tell him. I don't want to get his hopes up."

* * *

><p>"Well?" Dave asked.<p>

"Yes." The tech confirmed. "There are cameras hidden in the bathroom, bedroom, and pointed at the sofa."

Dave sighed. Clara Lee's apartment was as wired as Reid's. It had to be the same Unsub.

* * *

><p><strong>Day 04<strong>

"So you think this was not targeted at the team?" Cruz asked.

"No." Hotch replied. "There's no sign of anyone else being involved. Everyone else's houses came up clean. And there is no sign in any records that Dr. Lee and I are related in any way. Unless you were listening to the Tidewater Families gossip twenty years ago there's no way to connect us." He sighed. "I can only assume that was Nana Martha's work. She was always very efficient and determined."

"Runs in the family?" Cruz asked with a smile.

Hotch winced. "I try not to talk about that."

"Sorry."

"It's all right. We're progressing on the theory that Dr. Reid and Dr. Lee both crossed paths with the Unsub which triggered him, but that he did not know about this connection. There has to be something else."

"What though?'

"We're still trying to figure that out."

* * *

><p><strong>Day 06<strong>

The problem was one of volume.

For Clara she was deeply involved in the community. That meant she had contacts _everywhere_. They had to interview the Congress Park Bloods and the United Daughters of the Confederacy, the Daughters of the American Revolution and the American Federation of School Administrators, the Foxwood Alumna Association and the Bishop Walker PTA, the Alpha Delta Pi sorority and the Southside Crips. By the time day six rolled around they had been through maybe a quarter of the list. "I think she knows half the city." Dave groused. "I'm surprised only Cramer called us."

Spencer, in the mean time, didn't know nearly as many people; he just liked to keep notes. On _everything_. From his mother's care to cases he was still following, from classes he had taught to classes he had taken, from lists of books to read to movies to see, from con maps to chess moves. And that was on top of the book collection. Much of which was his mother's, but they still had to go through all of it to have any hope of re-creating his life away from the office. "He has that eidetic memory." Morgan groused. "Why all this?"

"Habit, likely. Be grateful he does." JJ sighed. "It's the only hope we have of finding him."

"You worried too?"

"It's been too long Morgan. And the holidays coming, what do I tell Henry?"

"Tell him he had to work but he'll make it up to him when he gets back."

"I don't want to get his hopes up."

* * *

><p><strong>Day 07<strong>

The very next day it got better. And oh so much worse. "We found them in the coffee table." JJ said.

"What are they?" Hotch asked, eyeing the armful of leather bound books.

"Journals. We figured this would be a good place to look, so we brought them back here."

"All right."

* * *

><p>"That is a very good question." Dave said.<p>

Finding Spencer's journal had led them to wonder if Clara kept one, and if so would it also be hidden as a matter of course. So she, Hotch and Dave went back to the penthouse and started looking. It didn't take long, a basket under the bed yielded a number of slender notebooks. "You know you shouldn't read those." Dave said.

"I know." Hotch said. "It's just...what if I never get to meet her."

"You will. You have to have faith in that. Kate and I will go through them."

"All right."

* * *

><p><strong>Day 10<strong>

It was a lot of material. Both missing people were fairly prolific writers. From what Dave could tell Spencer had started writing out his thoughts when he started going to NA, not long after the Jack Vaughan case. Clara had started keeping a journal after she moved out of her parents' home for good as a freshman in high school, boarding at the school during the year, and staying with friends over the summers and for the holidays. "Lonely." Was how Kate characterized her when they all sat to compare notes. "She knew lots of people but she wasn't connected to anyone. Kim was the only person she trusted, and even then it wasn't that personal. She was deliberately keeping herself away from everyone."

"Does she say why?"

"Something about her medical conditions. She keeps longing for someone to attach to, but says she has yet to find the right one. She talks about how she's afraid she'll get sick if they leave."

"You know, Reid said the same thing." JJ looked over the pile of books. "He's had a number of people walk out on him over the years, everyone from his Dad to Alex Blake as the most recent. He talks about becoming almost physically ill every time, it brings up a strong temptation to relapse to ease the sickness."

"Could they have a medical condition in common?"

"Good question." She sighed.

"What?" Dave asked.

"I didn't realize how badly we hurt him when Emily..."

"You can talk to him about it when we get him back."

* * *

><p>"Not something I'm going to talk about." Kim Chu told them<p>

"It might be what we need to break this case." Dave said.

"I thought you guys were the best."

"We are. This is how we work."

"Answer's still no. I only know because we've been friends for so long. If you want a list of her doctors I'll give it to you, but her diagnosis is of Hypopituitarism and Type 2 Diabetes. That's all you get."

* * *

><p><strong>Day 12<strong>

"What about Reid, could they have crossed paths?" Hotch asked

They were looking into the idea that Spencer and Clara' medical histories might have somehow led them to the same point in time. "Not at the doctor's office." Morgan said. "The only ones he was seeing then were an orthopedist for his knee and a pulmonologist out at Detrick."

"A pulmonologist at Detrick?" Kate asked.

"I'll have you read into the file." Hotch said.

"Nothing," JJ said. "There is not a single connection between these two. Not one."

"There has to be something." Morgan said. "Somehow these two both caught the attention of the Unsub."

"We need fresh eyes." Kate replied.

"Where are we going to get those?" Morgan asked

They considered this for a long moment, before Dave pulled over the speaker phone and dialed a number. "Interpol London," a crisp voice answered.

"Dave Rossi for Emily Prentiss, please."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Day 15**

"I think I found something." Emily said.

Of course she had agreed to help. They had sent her everything and she had one of her teams go over it all again with her. It was the volume of material that was staggering everyone. But when she called back and said that everyone sat up. "What did you find?"

"Clara Lee went to a neurologist back in 2011 when she started having headaches. Reid was having headaches back then too."

"Yeah, I remember." Morgan said. "But he didn't see anyone for them."

"Yes he did." Emily replied. "He didn't tell anyone or have it on his official record because he didn't want everyone treating him like a baby."

"We wouldn't have..." JJ said.

"Yes you would have." Kate replied. "I know I haven't been here that long but you two?" She looked from JJ to Morgan and back again. "Bully more than the mean girls at my niece's high school."

"Aw, come on." Morgan said. "Reid is like a little brother..."

"Which gives you both an excuse to act like children around him?"

"You're not accusing us of causing this." JJ said.

"No, but the way you two act has been causing him to keep a lot of secrets." Dave said. "First Maeve Donovan, now a medical problem. That makes it hard for any of us to do our jobs well."

"What are you saying?" Morgan asked.

"I'm saying." Hotch said, "The bullying and teasing ends now. We've already had to have HR do a sexual harassment presentation because of the way this team behaves; I'm not going to have them up here again. He is a fellow agent and respected scientist, I expect you two to act like professionals and treat him as such."

"Is that official?" JJ asked.

"Don't make me make it so." Hotch replied. He looked over at Emily. "Did he have a cancer screening?"

"I believe so."

Garcia was typing fast. "Going all the way back to 2011, paid cash...bingo, he, was in for a screening the week before Clara Lee."

"There we go." Morgan said.

"What's the neurologist's name?" Hotch asked.

"Dr. David Barnes." Garcia got his picture up on the screen.

"We'll need to talk to him and everyone in his office." Dave said. "One of them is the Unsub."

* * *

><p>They got as far as the office manager. "Dr. Barnes isn't here." She said. "He left for the week-end this morning."<p>

"Must be nice," Dave said.

"Check out everyone else." Hotch said to the team. "Garcia will find him." Just then his phone rang. "Garcia?"

"Sir! I've found Reid!"

"You found Reid?" Hotch asked, getting everyone's attention.

"Yes sir." Garcia said. "He's on the phone, patching him through."

"Reid?"

"Hotch." The familiar voice of their youngest agent.

"Where are you?"

"NAS Patuxent River," he said, "At the MA station."

"Are you all right?"

There was a pause about a heartbeat too long. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Where is the Unsub now?"

"Zip tied in the cellar of the house where he was holding us. It's on an island out in the bay, no connection to the mainland. The Master-at-Arms is sending some men back out for him."

"Good. You said we, there's another victim..."

"Clara Lee, she's here with me. She's all right."

"All right. That's an hour from here, we're on our way."

There were smiles of relief all around as they went back to the cars. All except for one. "You don't look happy." Kate said.

"I'm not." Dave said. "I don't know if it's that this seems too easy or what but something feels off. Why did he pick these two?"

"Maybe because they had similar medical issues?"

He had fired up the relevant forms on his tablet, now was looking them over. "But it doesn't specify on their intake forms. Reid doesn't even have autism listed, and Clara specifies diabetes and hypopituitarism, but not what was specifically off."

"A blood test..."

"Would have to be specific, it's not in the standard panels. It's not here."

He watched Kate get as stumped as he was. "So why did he pick them?"

"That is a good question."

They headed out to join the others only to find them gathered around another phone. "Reid said they were fine." Hotch was saying to mid-air.

"You people have a pretty ballsy definition of fine." A male voice said from his phone. "Hang on."

Dave looked a question at Morgan, "Reid's definition of 'fine' means injured but walking. He said something to the people there and they decided that it's a problem."

"How big of a problem?" Dave asked.

A moment later the voice on the other end got back on the line. "Our clinic won't touch it. They're arranging an airlift to Washington Medical Center."

"All right, we'll meet them there. Thank you." Hotch rang off and frowned at the phone.

"Do we have any idea what's going on?" Dave asked.

"Hopefully we'll find out when we get there."

* * *

><p>Thankfully there wasn't that far away. Unfortunately it was a case of hurry up and wait, they got to the hospital before the helo was even in the air.<p>

Hotch wasn't certain if he was happy to see Kim Chu on duty or not. "I'll tell you when I tell you and not before." She snapped at them. "They might be going in to surgery."

"Surgery!" Morgan nearly exploded.

"I won't know for certain until they get here." She scowled at him. "Now get out of traffic, go wait over there."

Twenty minutes later they caught the flurry of a helo landing, and then a familiar tall, slender figure striding in, trailing a small group of medics. "Really, this is an overreaction." Spencer was saying.

For a moment Hotch was rooted to the spot. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but the woman coming in with Spencer was taller than whatever it was. She had soft brown hair like Sean's that hung in gentle waves to her shoulder blades, the kind of jaw he had to shave around in the morning, and brown eyes that had to have come from her mother. She also had the calm resolve that could easily be stubbornness, and a command presence that could take on a classroom or courtroom with ease. He would have known her anywhere, he realized then. But there was no time now. "Reid." He said quietly. "What happened? No." He stopped as he watched his friend's mind start to rev into overdrive. "Why do you need medical attention? Short form."

"Short form?" Spencer's mind quickly sorted through the data lodged behind his eyes. "Ports. The Unsub put them in, he said they could be remote controlled and one contained cyanide. He was using them as a threat to control...ahhh." He tipped his head back as Kim started undoing his jacket and shirt.

"Ports?" Morgan asked.

"It's a drug delivery system." Kim said, "Placed under the skin with a catheter to the subclavian vein, usually. It allows for a slow release of medication, some of the newer ones can be opened remotely to time the delivery of meds." Under Spencer's jacket and shirt she found and undershirt and made quick work of it with her scissors. Peeling it back she revealed three large lumps under the skin of Spencer's chest, each just above a two week old incision. "Those need to come out. Right now."

Spencer nodded. "I agree, but..."

"I don't care. Get your ass on my gurney. In there." She pointed to one of the rooms.

"But..."

"Do it Reid." Hotch was firm.

Spencer slouched and gave a resigned sigh. He looked back at Clara and shuffled off, Morgan right behind him.

"You too?" Kim was asking Clara. She nodded and tugged her collar down, revealing the top of a lump. "Come on." Kim led her off to another room.

"Go with her." Hotch said to JJ and Kate, before he followed Morgan and Dave to Spencer's room. He got there just in time to hear Spencer rattling off the beginning of his medical history to the nurse. "...and no narcotics." He was saying. "Will I have to go under for this?"

"Nope. We usually do this with a local and some sedation. Doctor Chu ordered Lorazepam."

"Um, I doubt that I'll need it."

"Don't argue." Hotch said.

Spencer sighed and caught the gown the nurse passed to him. "Can I at least get a pair of scrub pants?"

"Sure. I'll send a pair in."

"We'll give you some privacy." Hotch said, as he tried to usher the other two out the door.

But Spencer stopped them. "There's only so much the Master-at-Arms out there can legally do..."

"I'll contact them." Hotch said as he and Dave stepped out.

But Morgan refused to leave. "I'm not going anywhere kid."

"But..."

"Nu uh. Either Garcia or I have been there every time."

"But..."

"When you got Anthrax, when you caught fire, every time you got shot..."

"Do you really want to watch me change clothes?" Spencer asked over him.

Morgan gave him an exasperated look and very deliberately turned his back.

Right. Hotch stepped out with Dave in tow. "Can you contact the Master-at-Arms?" Hotch asked him. "I'm going to go check on Clara."

"Careful. She doesn't know yet."

"I know." Hotch took a deep breath and knocked on the other door.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>Casting notes: Now that the team has met her you can as well. For Dr. Clara Custis Lee I cast Emma Watson, best known as Herminone Grainger.<p>

For this Unsub I don't have to cast. Stephen Mendel played Dr. Barnes in 06x12 "Corazon"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Day 15**

Clara had already been tucked into a hospital gown. She looked too small in that bed, surrounded by all the business of a hospital. At the moment Kate had stepped out, to reduce the number of bodies in the room. JJ and Kim were keeping Clara company while her blood was being drawn. "I can tell you now all my hormones are going to be all a-kilter." She said with the soft, lilting accent of Virginia planter aristocracy.

"As long as your blood sugar is all right," Kim replied.

"I feel fine." Clara looked up expectantly as Hotch stepped forward.

"Dr. Lee, I'm, um, Agent Aaron Hotchner..."

"Yes. Spencer told me about you." She frowned a little. "Are you any relation to Samuel Hotchner of Manassas?"

Hotch had lost his accent a long time ago, somewhere in-between school and the courtroom. For the first time he wished he hadn't. "Actually I'm his oldest son." He watched her take a deep breath, "We had to run DNA while you were missing. It appears that Dad..."

"Cheated on your mother with mine?" He watched a faint flicker of hope come to her eyes, even as she schooled her face carefully. "Nothing to be ashamed of, we didn't do it. I assume that means we share some of that DNA?" Hotch nodded. "I never even thought of having a brother."

"Two, actually, I have a younger brother, Sean. He's two years older than you are if my math is right. You, um, also have a nephew."

"Spencer told me. I am sorry about your wife."

"Thank you."

"It gets better." Kim said. "His mother was a Vixen."

She closed her eyes and chuckled in reply. "Good lord, it's a soap opera. My mother was as well, as are Kim and I."

"Looks like Dad had a type." Hotch said

"It does." Just then more people bustled in, "Now what?"

"I'm sedating you." Kim said. "You're getting a nice long nap."

"You know that's not really necessary."

"Hush honey. Enjoy it while you can." Kim looked up at Hotch. "You can have her back at dinner time not before. Now shoo."

"We will talk later?" Clara asked.

Hotch smiled and nodded. "Yes, of course."

"Good." Clara looked over at Kim. "Do with me what you will."

"Don't tempt me like that."

* * *

><p>"We have a problem." Dave said as Hotch walked out of his sister's room.<p>

"I'd rather we didn't." Hotch replied.

"You and me both; the Unsub is dead."

Hotch felt a cold chill settled at the bottom of his spine, "How?"

"The MA called in the Coast Guard to help and make everything legal. They found the body hanging from the ceiling in the house where they were being held. His hands were zip tied behind his back. And the house had been set on fire, but they were able to get it out before there was too much damage, they think."

Hotch thought fast. "Reid said he left him zip tied but he wouldn't have killed him."

"They're not accusing him. They said they found video, they're holding it until we get there." Dave looked over at the rooms. "Let me take Kate, JJ and Morgan love him for all they've not been at their best lately. They won't want to leave."

"All right." He watched Dave head to Clara's room, then turned back to Spencer's, just in time for Morgan to step out, a big grin on his face. "What?"

"You have to hear this. I don't know what they gave him but he is drunk as a lord in there."

They stepped back into Spencer's room, the curtain partially blocking their view. He was lying back against the gurney, already being bundled up for surgery with an IV going. His eyes were unfocused and his voice was starting to slur. "Hey Morgan..."

"Yeah."

"You got to teach me how to out run Hotch. He's scaring me."

"Why?" Morgan asked.

"I think Clara might be his sister."

"Really? That's interesting."

"Yeahhhh..."

"Why be scared of that though?"

"We had sex." Spencer sighed a little. "You're right. It's great."

Hotch stifled a groan. He did not want to know this. Any of this.

Morgan practically collapsed with silent laughter. "Well, you know, you don't have to tell him..." He said when he could breathe again.

Spencer shook his head. "I love her." He said. "She loves me. We're going to move in together. I'm going to buy her some teacups."

"That's...nice, I guess."

"He's going to shoot me, I know it."

"I don't think I can help you there."

"You can't tease me about her though."

Morgan was still wearing a big grin on his face. "You think I'm going to let this one go?"

Now it was Spencer's turn to grin. "You'd be teasing about Hotch's sister."

Hotch watched the grin fall off Morgan's' face as he glanced over at the corner where his boss was waiting. "Good point."

"Ha ha." Spencer's head rolled back. A moment later he let out a snore.

Hotch took a mental step back and considered this. Yes, he was already starting to feel protective of his sister. On the other hand, they were both adults and, especially given that he had no relationship with her, it was not any of his business. But it wasn't a bad paring, they were both intelligent, well-educated, likely had similar interests and Spencer was an honorable man who would treat her quite well. His only concern was how quickly this relationship had started and the conditions around it. How much of this involved the Unsub? Would it last? Would he have to help pick up the pieces on both ends? And what about Spencer's lingering grief over Maeve Donovan? Was this just a rebound?

So many questions and none of them would be answered now. Because now there were even more people coming in. "Stay with him." He said to Morgan. "There should be a forensics team here at any time, help them maintain the chain of custody, those things are evidence." Morgan nodded and planted himself out of the way. He would tell JJ to do the same with Clara.

All he could do now was wait.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**Day 15**

Morgan would have thought an operating room for this. But they set up right in there, likely to get it done quicker. At least he was hoping that.

They made him stand all the way back in the corner while they worked. He watched them set up, watched the forensics guy set out his gear on a tray they wheeled over to the bed with the others. Then the docs leaned in and got started. He couldn't help but wince as he watched them start making neat cuts in his friend's skin. "Good." The doctor said. "How are you doing Dr. Reid?" Reid answered with an unintelligible mutter and a snore. "All right, let's keep going."

They made three cuts in total, and then started fishing in the first one. As he watched Morgan saw the doc pull the first white tube out, and put some kind of clamp on it. Then the next, and finally the third. At that point the doc let out a sigh of relief. "Good?" He asked.

"So far. Ok, pressure...here." That last was to the nurse as the doc felt about for something. Morgan couldn't see through backs for a minute, but when they shifted again the white tube was all the way out and lying on Reid's skin, the end on some kind of paper towel. For the next few minutes they repeated that twice more until all three ends were out. Now there was no way Reid could be poisoned. Morgan could finally let out the breath he had been holding, and consider that Reid could very well have dropped dead in front of him with no warning. Okay, not something he was going to think of for long.

He had checked with the nurses before this started, and had received the clear to text. Now he sent one off. _Worst is over. He'll be ok._

_Yes! On my way!_ Came the reply.

The worst was over, but those things weren't out yet. Morgan hung out to watch, curious now. They had to cut a little more to get them going, but in a reasonable amount of time the first one came out. It reminded him of one of those little cup things Savannah used in her coffee maker, the kind that made one cup at a time, only a little flatter. From this distance he could see some business around the place where it connected to that long, thin tube, but otherwise it seemed a simple device. The drugs were kept in the cup, the tube snaked into the big vein that lead to the heart, the business in between was a valve. The Unsub opens the valve and some or all of the drug goes into the body. From the thinness of the top it could be refilled from the outside using a needle. Ingenious. Then he pictured Reid dropping dead again, his lips going blue, and he had to add evil. Ingenious and evil.

The forensics guy used his own needle to pull a sample of whatever was in the container, then sealed it in an evidence bag. As the next container came out he repeated the process. "How long to get those run?" Morgan asked.

"Couple of hours, no more," he replied.

"Good."

When the third container was out Morgan breathed even easier. They hadn't been placed all that deep, now it was just a matter of stitches. Reid would have some nice scars from it. Hopefully Clara dug scars on her men. "How long before he can go home?" Morgan asked.

"Dr. Chu has him down for overnight observation." One of the nurses said.

Huh. Wasn't it just stitches? "Why?"

"No idea."

"Agent Morgan?"

It was the forensics guy, with a note of urgency in his voice. Morgan turned that way only to see him holding up one of the bags. A puddle of clear liquid had formed in the corner, clearly dripping out the end of the tube. "What happened?" Morgan asked.

"The valve opened."

Morgan swallowed and hurried to the next room, knocking and motioning JJ out. "Are her things out?"

"Yeah, they're just sewing her up. Why?"

"Agent Jareau!" Someone called from inside the room. JJ turned back, looked, and went even paler than before.

"Someone wanted to eliminate the witnesses." Morgan looked at his watch. "Fifteen minutes." Those things had been out for fifteen minutes.

"I know."

Of course then Hotch came over. "What happened?"

"Couple of those ports opened up." Morgan said.

Stoneface didn't even twitch but you could see the shadow in his eyes. "Were they out?"

"Yeah."

"Both of them," JJ said.

Now it was Hotch's turn to let out a breath. "Thank god."

"Amen." Morgan looked back at the room. "It looks like he's just getting stitches now, but Dr. Chu wants to keep him over night. Any idea why?"

"Not a clue. I'll see if I can find her."

Hotch headed off then and JJ went back in with Clara so Morgan went back in to check on little brother. Sure enough, he had three neat lines of stitches which were getting bandaged up. Nothing bad there at all. Now all he had to do was sleep off the sedation. Good.

But as he watched another nurse or tech or hospital person came in and started poking around Reid's arm. "What are you doing?" Morgan asked, non-confrontationally.

"Blood work." The tech replied as she found a vein.

"For?"

"Ummm, not sure," she called up some part of his chart on the in-room computer. "CBC, CMP, CK, Troponin, PT, PTT, UA, don't know what OXT is..."

"Huh. Okay." While the tech went about drawing a handful of vials of blood off Reid Morgan peered at the computer. He pulled out his phone and quickly copied the acronyms, just in case. Something felt off. "So what happens now?"

One of the nurses answered. "He gets to go upstairs and sleep it off."

"Like the sound of that."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**Day 15**

Dave and Kate got word that Spencer and Clara were all right as they were on their way out to where they had been held.

They were on a Coast Guard boat, heading out with the NCIS agent who had joined the investigation simply because the Navy had been involved. They were out in Chesapeake Bay now, as they rounded a point they saw it off in the distance. "Is that a house?" Dave asked.

"Yeah. It's called Clingstone House." The agent answered. "I looked it up out of curiosity. It was built in 1909, shingle style, heavy timbered to survive any hurricanes that came through. It was a summer house for some robber baron. The people here said they thought it was closed up this time of year."

As they got closer the size and concept became more impressive. It was perched on the side of a large, rocky island, a stone foundation or cellar and above it two stories of grand home, with what might even be a livable attic. A windmill and an antenna were attached to the roof; solar panels glinted in the sun and off to one side was a large water tank, a propane tank, what might be a fuel tank and a large generator. "Self contained." Kate said, nodding at it all.

"That would have been helpful." Rossi nodded. "Could you take us around the island, please?" He asked the sailor.

The island looked to be shaped like a blunted triangle. The north end was narrowest and the highest from the water, and held a small garden area with some scrubby trees. The west side was nearly a sheer cliff face, just enough room at the top for the tanks and mechanical systems. The east side held a narrow spit of beach with stairs that led up to the garden. There the Coast Guard had anchored a pontoon boat dock so people could get in and out of the house. The south side was the widest. There the stone foundation of the house had gone all the way to the water. There had been a roll up door concealing a boat house at that end. Right now the door was up, and smoke damage had covered that side. A fire boat was anchored there, and firemen were moving about. "How bad was the damage?" Kate asked.

"Seems like it was confined to the cellar," the NCIS agent replied. "The dock, a store room and some rooms we can't quite make out. But only some smoke damage got upstairs."

"All right. Let's go in." Dave said.

They used the pontoon slip, climbed up too many stairs to the top. The garden was native but nicely tended, with bird feeders out and a bench under an arbor. There was a broad porch with a barbeque and a table on that side. Kate stood there a moment and looked out to sea. "No boat, the water's cold and shore's a ways off." She said. "They were stranded here."

"At least they were stranded someplace comfortable." Dave said. He stepped into the hallway. It led further into the cool dimness of the house. To the right a door led to what might have been a sun porch around the corner. It had been made into a gym, with a treadmill, stationary bike, some weights. To the left a door led into a large, family kitchen with new appliances. He pointed to the lab balance on the counter. "And set up specifically for them."

The hallway led to the center of the house, the library. It stretched up over two stories, was lined in books on all floors, with a grand staircase spiraling around the room. In the center was a huge iron chandelier hanging from the massive center beams. And from that chandelier hung a body. "We identified him as Dr. David Barnes." The NCIS agent said.

"And you don't think Agent Reid did this?" Kate asked.

"No. We found a video camera on the boat he arrived in, it recorded what happened."

"Can we see the video?" Dave asked.

The agent led them into the large dining room where some techs were working. There was a laptop on the table, one of theirs. "Here you go." The agent said.

As Dave and Kate watched the boat the camera was on pulled up to the boathouse door. It opened as if on a remote and the boat sailed in. They watched Barnes get out and tie it off, and then go through a door to one side with an electronic keypad lock. He came back a few minutes later and they watched the boat rock as he got back on board. The boat rocked for a bit and then they saw him get off and head for another roll up door directly ahead. It also opened with a key pad. Past it was what looked like a large store room or pantry, a number of shelf units, refrigerators, and freezers on the side. Barnes took the pile of items he was carrying over to the chest freezers and started putting things away.

That was when a familiar tall, slender figure stepped out from behind the shelves and whacked him over the head.

It was a brief struggle. Surprise gave Spencer the upper hand. He got Barnes into zip tie cuffs before hauling him to his feet. They saw the look on Spencer's face as he recognized Barnes, saw them exchange a few words, then Spencer pushed Barnes back to the ground and turned to stairs that led up into the house. A few moments later he came back down with Clara in tow. She almost stopped, shock on her face, when she saw Barnes, but Spencer hurried her past and into the boat. It rocked as they got in, cast off, and then started pulling out of the slip. As they pulled away they could clearly see Barnes getting to his feet and yelling after them. "That fits the report he gave." Dave said. "How long between then and when your people got out here?"

"About ninety minutes." The agent replied.

"Rossi," Kate said quietly.

Dave turned and looked where she was indicating. There was a camera in the corner of the room. "Your guy there loved his video." The agent said. "There are cameras in every room."

"But this place isn't connected to the outside world." Dave said. "Or is it? Mind if we have a look around?"

"Be my guest." The agent said.

"I'll take the second floor." Kate said.

That left Dave the first floor. The rooms flowed around the central library. The dining room, a living room, a game room with a card table, a chess table, a billiards table, even a video game set up. A home theater set up with racks of movies and the gym. A screen porch that jutted out over the water, complete with a hammock big enough for two that currently held a pile of pillows and a mannequin head with a wig. There was a stack of books on the table beside it even. Whatever the Unsub wanted he wanted them to be comfortable out here. "If I didn't know better I'd say Reid came here on vacation." He said to Kate when she came back down.

"Most of the rooms upstairs are closed, dust covers on the furniture, that sort of thing." Kate said. "Two were open and in use. I also found a glucometer and prescription meds for Clara Lee. This is one meticulous Unsub, he planned for everything."

"Except for being jumped."

"Yeah, I know. I'm wondering if the head in the hammock has something to do with that."

"Anything else unusual up there?"

"No."

Dave turned to the agent. "How do you get to the cellar from here?"

"There's one door off the kitchen, another at the foot of the stairs." He replied.

Dave moved to the one at the stairs. It had an airlock seal, and a complicated electronic lock that didn't fit the rest of the house. "Interesting door," Dave said.

"The one off the kitchen is just like it." The agent replied. "That's why the building didn't go up, the seals kept the fire down there."

"Can we go down?"

"Sure."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**Day 15**

At the suggestion of the firemen they went down through the door closest to the kitchen. The stairs were metal and concrete, still sturdy after the fire. The damage hadn't been centered in here, but the smoke and water damage was pretty bad. "A storeroom?" Kate asked.

"Looks like it." Dave opened a chest freezer, the one Barnes had been stocking when Reid jumped him, and found frozen fish and chicken, more or less. "Barnes knew them well enough to get Clara her medication; he would know that she would need to eat fresh food to keep her blood sugar stable. That's how Reid was able to know when he was coming back; he could only stock them with groceries for a week at most."

"So on his first visit Reid observes and then makes a plan for the second." Kate nodded. "That would be the genius."

"But how did he manage to sneak up on Barnes? He should have been looking for that." Dave looked over the lock to the roll up door that opened to the boat house. "This whole island is built like a series of airlocks. Barnes could isolate them in one area and work in another, never coming in direct contact with them. So how did he not know that Reid was in there?"

"He went somewhere over here first." Kate said, gesturing down the right side of the double slip. There was a door over there, in the direction of the worst of the damage. "What's in here?"

In there was the remains of a small meeting room, with what might have been a kitchenette in the corner. Past that was a room that reminded them of Garcia's lair, looking through the worst of the damage. "The cameras," Rossi said with a nod. "He looked in here first. Somehow Reid made it look like he was upstairs."

"The head in the hammock. " Kate said. "Life sized. Bundle some pillows up in some blankets and it might have looked like he was having a nap."

"So Barnes thinks Reid is in the hammock, Clara is somewhere else in the house, locks the doors at the top of the stairs, unlocks the roll up and goes about his business. Slick. When he leaves he unlocks the one at the top and locks the roll up, giving them access to the storeroom. But did he just observe them?"

"Where does the door at the foot of the stairs go?" Kate asked.

Dave considered the mental map he'd been making, and left the computer room, turning left and heading down a hallway. The end of it opened into the other center of the fire. "Here," he said. "And I don't like the look of it."

"Neither do I." Kate agreed.

The center of the room held some kind of medical scanning device, a large square with a hole in the center and a table to slide someone in and out. And around the device were a number of mechanical arms, all plastic, now melted badly enough to make their actual purpose hard to discern. "All plastic." Kate said. "I bet that's an MRI. Was an MRI."

"Another airlock door," Dave said, gesturing to the one they had entered. "So he locks them out of the cellar, unloads, locks the door between the store room and the rest of this floor. He opened the door at the foot of the stairs and tells them to come down. But how does he make them if they don't? He's not big enough to overpower them."

"Cyanide," Kate said. "Do what I want or you die. Or the other one dies."

Dave nodded. "That would work on Reid. But then how does Barnes get him to submit here, he does not want to deal with them face to face at all." Just then his phone chimed a text. He looked at it and felt a cold chill settle around his heart. "This is how. One of the drugs in those ports was propofol, a short acting sedative."

"So he threatens them to get one down here and then sedates them long enough to get them into the MRI. Retreats to his control room and does what he does. When he's done he releases them and they likely run back upstairs." Kate nodded. "Very organized, slick set up. It probably didn't even cost as much as you might think, that might be an older, used model. What do you think he was trying to do?"

"I don't think I want to know." Dave said with a sigh.

"What?"

"The third port Reid was carrying held Sildenafil."

It took a moment for Kate to remember the name, "O-kay, left turn to squick-ville there."

"Yeah," Dave shook off his sadness over the whole thing and looked over the room again. "So how did Barnes die? Reid left him in the storeroom and took the boat."

"Well, we were thinking blitz attach to take Reid in the first place. And this is a lot for one man to operate."

"And there is room for more than one boat in that slip." Dave nodded. "We're looking for at least one more Unsub. He showed up, realized that the victims escaped and started eliminating evidence and witnesses, including his partner. We could see this place for a long time as we were coming up, I bet he saw the MA boat coming in the distance and panicked, forgot to clip the zip ties on the body."

"What's he going to do when he finds out that Reid and Clara aren't dead?" Kate asked.

"I have no idea."

Just then the NCIS agent came back to them. "Excuse me, Agent Rossi?" He asked.

"Yeah?"

"We found something you should have a look at."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**Day 15**

This is probably a little creepy, Aaron Hotchner thought as he sat in a hospital room watching his sister sleep.

Technically she was his sister, or at least half sister. They did share DNA, and what she had said during their brief conversation had confirmed it. But that was little more than a technicality, she had been alone for most of her life now, had been used badly by her mother and step-father, and might not want anything to do with him or his family or any concept of family at all. She might very well wake up and tell him to go to hell and take a toothbrush and likely bless his heart with the invitation. She hadn't asked him to sit vigil on her bedside so she might be upset that he had presumed.

On the other hand Reid would not have made a statement like the one he had when he was sedated likely, drugs on board or no. And he was not at all the kind to engage in a causal encounter, especially when there was an Unsub involved. He had to assume their relationship was a serious one, as unlikely as it sounded, and so it was his duty to look after her on Reid's behalf, much as he would look after Will for JJ or any one of Rossi's wives or any of them would have looked after Haley for him.

All that was considered before she woke, which was sooner than he had been told to expect. But then he remembered the Samantha Malcolm case and how diabetics could process drugs differently than healthy people, and so rather than react with worry he just smiled as she started to blink. Later he would realize that he likely should not have been surprised by the first word out of her mouth. "Spencer?" She asked as she blinked awake and looked around.

"Um, no. He's next door. Good morning." Hotch said.

" 'Morning." She reached up and rubbed her face and blinked at him. "Oh. Yes." Her memory seemed to be kicking in slowly. Until she started to sit up and hissed in pain.

That could not be good. "Would you like me to get the nurse?"

"Um. Likely. Please."

"All right." He stuck his head out and got the nurse's attention, then stepped out when she stepped in to help. Perfect timing, just then his phone rang. "Yeah, Dave? What did you find?"

"Bodies. At least a dozen of them. Reid and Clara are not their first victims."

"Their?"

"There has to be at least one more Unsub out there. Barnes left his briefcase in the boat; it's full of his notes. Hopefully we'll be able to use them to help build a profile."

But now Hotch was thinking in unpleasant ways. "Reid and Clara' ports went off with poison not long after they were removed. They haven't been able to tell if they were on timers or were remotely set off."

Dave was quiet a moment. "You might want to add security for now."

"I agree."

"Have you seen the report of the drugs in those things?"

Hotch sighed. That was the other complication. "Yes." He said as the nurse left Clara' room and passed him.

"Suggestion. We're on our way back, hold off on interviewing Reid until we get there."

"I've already got someone on her way in to help you with that. And Andi agreed to lead the interview with Clara, she's on her way out."

"Good idea. All right, be there soon."

Hotch hung up. With the nurse gone he figured Clara had to be decent, right? He tapped on the door, stuck his head around, noticed that the curtain had been drawn to block off the far side of the room, and stepped in.

He quickly realized his mistake. For one, according to the silhouette she was still dressing. He couldn't see anything but he still quickly turned his back. For another she was not alone. "Thank you for picking these up for me." She was saying.

"Nothing but the finest the gift shop could provide." Kim replied.

Okay, not going to eavesdrop. He stepped out and waited patiently. Good timing once more, he spotted a familiar figure coming down the hallway. "Alex."

Alex Blake hurried up to him. "Where is he?"

"In there." Hotch nodded to the room next door. "Morgan is looking after him. He's going to be fine."

She let out a deep breath of air. "He'd better be."

Now for the hard, or perhaps tricky part. "We could use your help. I already cleared it with Cruz."

"What do you need?"

"There's still an Unsub out there, we're going to need to interview Reid for the profile. And one of the drugs they exposed him to was Sildenafil."

"Oh god!" For a moment Alex looked sick. "Of course. Send Dave in with me."

"He's on his way."

"All right. I'm going to go check..."

"Of course. I'll be next door."

"Who's next door?"

"My sister." At Alex's shocked look he smiled. "Tell you later."

Perfect timing. As Alex disappeared into Reid's room Kim stepped out of Clara'. "She's ready for visitors."

"Thank you." Here we go he thought. Hotch took a deep breath and stepped into the room.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Part two - Love**_

_Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage._

_- Lao Tzu_

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen<strong>

**Day 15**

Clara had dressed from the bag Kim had fetched for her, something that looked comfortable for lounging about in a hospital bed but was still actual clothing and not a gown. And from the freshly scrubbed look she had washed her face and brushed her hair. From the sharp, interested look in her eyes she had shaken off most if not all of the drugs. "Hello again," he said. "May I come in?"

"Of course you may Aaron. May I call you Aaron?" She asked. "Where is Spencer?"

"Of course." He settled into the visitor's chair. "He's next door, still asleep. Some good friends are in with him. How are you feeling?"

"That does seem to be the question of the day." She gave a gentle smile. "I'm not going to get away with a polite answer, am I?"

That wasn't really what she was asking. He frowned. "I don't know. This is new for both of us. You haven't had any time to consider..."

"I've been considering it for a week and a half now. There aren't that many Hotchners in Virginia."

"True. I've never thought about how I would treat a sister in this situation, but I know if my brother was lying in a hospital bed I would say no, he would not get away with a polite answer." That got her laughing, which had to be a good sign. "And beyond that Reid...Spencer indicated that you two were, um, close." She put an eyebrow up but didn't say anything. "In this unit we tend to live in each other's pockets. I'm honor bound to do what I can to help if you need it."

"He indicated?"

"He tends to babble when he's under sedation."

"I'll remember. How badly did he babble?" He didn't have to answer; she saw the look on his face and winced. "No shooting him big brother."

"I've had better reasons to in the past and haven't yet. Although given the drugs he was exposed to..."

She just shook her head. "We suspected the Unsub, that was the term he used, used something like...that. But that is his story to tell, not mine."

"Fair enough. Did they tell you what they found in those ports?"

"Cyanide, some sedative that explains quite a bit, and one held both insulin and glucagon. Thankfully he did not have to use either."

"Good. So how are you now?"

She sighed, settled back against the pillows a bit more, and winced as she lifted her hand to her chest. "Physically? Other than this I believe I'm fine, and stitches will heal. I know Kim likely drew off a pint to check for everything she can think of, she's cautious like that, but I don't feel sickly at all. And the few injuries I had from...well, I'd rather not..."

Damn. "I'm afraid we need you to talk about it. The case is still open."

Clara nodded. "Spencer said that we'd have to. But not with my brother, if you don't mind. Let's not go there between us."

Hotch smiled. "I know I would say that. I made arraignments for someone from another unit who's worked with us before to come lead the interview. She's very good but we don't routinely socialize."

"Thank you. That sounds about as good as it's going to get." He watched a tender smile cross her face, and a starry look come in to her eyes. "Emotionally, as strange as it sounds, I've never been happier."

He could guess why she was happy, it was obvious. "I predict you'll be very happy once all this is over."

He watched a shadow of something flit across her face. "I hope so. As for mentally," Now she sighed. "I don't know. I keep thinking I'm fine and then I'll remember what happened and I just can't get it out of my head. And I keep having nightmares, sometimes I'll look in the mirror and it doesn't seem right. I just don't know."

"Post-traumatic stress reaction." It was understandable, especially if something had happened out there. Nothing he could do about it personally, but "I know some people who are very good at helping with that sort of thing. I could make a list..."

"I would appreciate that greatly. I've never been in a situation like this before, I've always been the one in control and now this I just..."

"I understand." He couldn't do anything to fix this for her, but he could come up with a list of resources she could use to find her own way to healing. "I'm sorry you had to go through this."

She sighed and he watched her look off into memory. "It wasn't all that bad at first..."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Day 02**

Clara Lee opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a long moment, until she realized that it was not her ceiling.

Once that first flare of panic cleared the last of the sleep from her head she sat up, and immediately gasped as a bolt of pain shot through her chest. When she grabbed at it she felt bandages, and beneath them strange lumps. And then it kicked in that she was naked, which started her shivering even though the room was warm.

The room was warm. As she pulled the sheet free to wrap around herself she looked around the room. It had to be at the beach because she could see ocean outside, and hear the waves through the cracked opening. It was light and airy, with a big, comfortable bed, a vanity table that looked well-stocked, a wardrobe and chest of drawers, and through one open door a bathroom. The other door was closed.

Before she checked that other door Clara checked the wardrobe and chest. Thankfully both contained clothes in her sizes, right down to the shoes. Not a clue to whom they might belong but she was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, she pulled out a likely set and stepped into the bath to quickly dress. It was also well stocked with toiletries; whoever lived here had comfortable tastes. As she dressed she took the opportunity to see what was going on with her chest, which hurt whenever she moved wrong. Whatever it was had been neatly bandaged, thankfully. Under the bandages were three neatly stitched cuts and three large lumps that hadn't been there when...wait, what had happened?

She drifted back to the vanity while she remembered. She had been riding in the park, enjoying the wind in her hair and the crisp autumn morning, glad for every chance to get out before the snow drove her in to the gym. She remembered this van pulling out in front of her out of nowhere and falling and...no, that was all she remembered.

By then she had kind of fallen into the vanity chair, and now she automatically picked up the brush there, also the kind she used, and started pulling it through her hair, trying to get it tidy. Her eyes drifted over the items laid out there, not really seeing them for a moment, until some part of her brain called her attention. There were prescription bottles there, with her name on them, although no clue as to the pharmacy. She opened them and recognized what she took regularly. And with them was a glucometer and testing kit. Although she felt fine she opened it and checked, found her blood sugar to be a bit high, but not to the point of being worrisome.

Wherever she was someone intended for her to be here. Not some random woman riding in the park, _her_. But who was the someone who brought her here? Who did this to her?

Time to explore.

So far everything around her had been silent. She moved to the unopened door, listened carefully, then cracked it open and had a look. Beyond all she saw was an empty room. She opened it, stepped out cautiously and found herself in a hallway with three other doors. On the far side it ended in a window. The other seemed to open into a larger space.

It seemed a truism of most scary moves that things crept up from behind you because no one ever looked there. Clara decided to check the rooms at the far end of the hall first, just to make certain no one was hiding there. They turned out to be empty bedroom suites, the furniture draped with dust cloths, the toilets winterized. But the fourth, the one directly across from hers, had been opened.

And it was occupied.

She crept in quietly. There was a man sleeping in that bed, one deeply asleep enough to be snoring lightly. In the clear light she could see that he had the look of a poet about him, with an elegant face and unruly hair. That he was showing the barest hint of wanting a shave indicated how long she had been sleeping. Thankfully he was draped with a sheet as she had been but it had slipped enough for her to see the bandages on his finely muscled chest. A fellow victim then. She assumed the leather folder on his nightstand was his wallet, intended only to peek at his driver's license to learn his name, and was surprised to find a badge there.

"Agent Reid?" She asked, hoping to wake him. "Agent Reid?" No reply. She could try shaking him awake but that would never do so instead she disciplined herself to suppress the usual urge and went to peek in his bathroom, finding it empty. Leaving him to what was likely a drugged slumber she crept on, checking two more hallways on this floor, four bedrooms each, all of which were empty and closed. Whoever brought them here had tucked them into the two bedrooms closest to the stairs and had...left them? Could she be sure?

There was no hope for it but to check the rest of the house. She rambled through every room clockwise, checking every closet and cupboard that could be anything close enough to conceal a person. She didn't stop to look at anything else along the way, she just looked for people. But she didn't find a one, other than the sleeping poet there was no one. Finally she checked outside and found out that they were on an island. "Maybe I should have tried for a triathlon instead of a century." She muttered as she eyed the distant shore.

All right, there was no one. There were two locked doors she had found, a big roll up down in the cellar and one with an odd sort of lock at the bottom of the stairs. She wedged chairs under that door and the cellar door just in case and went around the ground floor again, this time taking in the house. It was comfortable; she had to give it that. It had everything she could possibly want in a house and more. But then it was likely designed for her and the poet, the sugary cereals down in the cellar and the flavored creamers in the upstairs fridge were not for her, neither was the piano in the parlor. The lab balance in the kitchen was, as well as the tea for the pod-type coffee maker. She'd been meaning to try one of those, looked like she had her chance.

The kitchen did hold one other wonder, a binder left square in the middle of the island, labeled **Information**. She decided to leave it for the poet and instead set about opening a bottle and loading it into the water cooler, then filling the pot. As she set it to working she looked out the window toward the south. "All right Grandfather." She murmured, speaking to her ancestor as she liked to do when she needed the strength. "Any idea what to do about this one?"

She'd later take it as a sign when she heard soft footsteps on the stairs.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Day 15**

Hotch was about to say that he never thought of Spencer Reid as a poet when he saw his sister's face change. Not in a bad way, but up until now she had that familiar cool reserve going, that hint of the iron self-control his family was known for, along with signs of the distress stemming from her recent assault. But now her face softened, her eyes lit up, and a tender smile formed. He didn't have to turn around to know what, or rather who, caused that. "Morning Reid," he said, turning. "How are you feeling?"

"Good morning. Evening." Sure enough Spencer was standing there in scrub pants and a hospital bathrobe, blinking the last of the drugged sleep from his eyes. Morgan had trailed along behind him, and was now leaning against the wall. "Sore. Otherwise all right. I just wanted to check..."

"Good." Hotch smiled inwardly. Reid had the same starry love-struck look on his face. Whatever had happened between the two of them it was real. That was good, Reid deserved someone special and he could already tell that Clara fit the bill, and deserved someone just as special.

"We were right." Clara said. "There aren't that many Hotchners in northern Virginia."

As Hotch watched a nervous look come into Spencer's eyes and saw that wince, as Morgan started to chuckle, he couldn't help himself. "Don't worry, I approve." He said, turning back to his sister.

Just in time to see the steel come into her eyes. "I beg your pardon? I'll have you know I am a grown woman..."

"I wasn't talking to you." He said, interrupting her with the trace of a smile.

Thankfully, after a shocked heartbeat they got it and laughed. "Are we going to be interviewed?" Spencer asked.

Hotch nodded. "Dave and Kate are on their way back. Dave and Alex are going to interview you; I cleared it with Cruz already." He nodded a little at the suddenly bashful look in Reid's eyes and the murmured thanks. "Kate and Andi Swan are going to interview Clara."

"What are JJ and I going to do?" Morgan asked.

"Go through what they found in the boat. We need a full profile, there's at least one more Unsub out there."

Spencer frowned. "I didn't even think to look for notes."

"That's because you were running." Morgan said, kindly.

"Hey." There was a tap at the door and Garcia stuck her head in. "Oh my god, are you okay!" She crowded over to hug on Spencer.

"Most...ow! Ow ow ow!" He hissed but didn't pull away from the hug.

"What? What!"

"Stitches. Right there." He tugged down the neck of his gown to show her the bandage.

"Oh! Oh, sorry! I'm just so glad you're back and all right and..."

"I am. Did you bring my bag?"

"I did. I left it next door with Alex."

"Thank you. I'm going to go get cleaned up before the interview."

Hotch sat and watched them all go before he turned back to Clara, "A poet?"

She just smiled. "You had to be there."

* * *

><p>If Derek Morgan had one character flaw it was that he was nosy. He was also untrusting of most people, but given his job he didn't consider that a character flaw. There were a handful of people he trusted though, and one of them had just come on shift. "Hey, Savannah," he said as he caught up with her in the hallway.<p>

Dr. Savannah Hayes was also a hospitalist at Washington Medical. And she was the woman of his dreams, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Thankfully she seemed to feel the same way about him. If it wasn't for their crazy schedules... "Hey gorgeous," she said, stepping into his arms. "What are you doing here?"

"We found my boy this morning." He said with a grin.

"Spencer?"

"Yep. He got himself out and got back with the other victim. They're going to be all right."

Now Savannah was grinning too. "All right! That's good to hear."

"Yeah, it is. Listen, I need your help with something."

"Sure."

"Do you know a Dr. Kim Chu?"

"Yeah. She's been here for a few years now.

"She's good?"

"Yeah, why?"

"There's something going on. She's best friends with the other victim, so we interviewed her a few times. There's something she's not telling us."

"She's not one of your Unsubs Derek. Kim's solid."

"No, she doesn't fit, but..." Morgan sighed. "Reid and I have been through a lot together. When his girl died, every time he got shot, when we thought my partner died..."

"Yeah, yeah. What you're asking is not exactly legal here you know."

"I know, I'm not going to go anywhere with it. I just want to be sure he's okay." Morgan pulled the slip of paper from his pocket. "She ordered a bunch of blood tests when all he needed was some stitches and I just want to..." Savannah was already poking at her tablet. He peeked and spotted a familiar name. "What are you doing?"

"Checking his chart for you."

"You can do that? I thought it was on her computer."

"No, these are hospital computers. We're all on the MedStar charting system; any doctor or nurse in the system has access."

Bells started ringing in the back of Morgan's head. "How big is the system?"

"Um, ten civilian hospitals, including us, Georgetown, George Washington and Children's National; a couple hundred doctors' offices, easy. And we cross-check with Walter Reid and Fr. Detrick. Why?"

"Let me get back to you on that." If a doctor Unsub had access to that kind of data... "What about Reid?"

"Hummm...interesting selection of tests, you're right. Some of them aren't going to be back until tomorrow."

"Maybe that's why she's keeping him overnight."

"Maybe. We'll have to see." Savannah clicked the page closed.

Uhhh... "Wait a minute, what's wrong? What's she testing him for?"

"I can't tell you."

What? "Sweetheart, it's me."

She gave him a very indulgent smile. "And it's illegal, Derek. If I'm caught giving out patient information at best I'll lose my job and my license. If you want to know get it from him."

Morgan sighed. "He's not talking."

"Then I can't help you."

"Hotch has his medical power of attorney."

"Which only kicks in if he's too incapacitated to make decision for himself. Is he?"

"No."

"Then there's nothing I can do, my hands are tied." She shook her head at the look on his face. "Look, I'll go ask Kim about it. I'll look after him for you. Promise."

At least he'd be in the hands of someone he could trust. He kissed her for it. "All right. Thank you."

"Uh huh."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Day 15**

"So what happened?" Dave asked.

They had come back not long after Spencer woke, given over the box of evidence to JJ and Morgan to go through, and split up. Now Kate was in the room next door with Andi and he was here with Alex and Dave. He was glad it was the two of them; he trusted them to be gentle with the painful parts, to only share the bare minimum of what the FBI needed to know, and to never discuss it again unless he brought it up first.

Even so, he didn't plan to tell them _everything_. Some things the FBI didn't need to know. Some things were private.

"I went running in the Arboretum." He started. "I've been tired of Morgan teasing me over having those waivers in my file for a while now, I guess I finally realized that there's no reason not to at least try to do something about it. So I've been working out for a few months now. It was nothing special; I try to go every morning that we're in town. All I remember is this van pulling out in front of me and the door sliding open. Then I woke up at the house."

* * *

><p><strong>Day 02<strong>

Spencer Reid woke suddenly. He'd been dreaming, not that he could remember who or what was in his dream but someone was calling him. After a few he realized that whoever was calling him was out there in the world, and not in his dream. The realization jerked him awake.

The first thing he noticed was the bed. He didn't have one, he just slept on his couch, the same one he had for years to be closer to his mother at night. It conformed perfectly to his body, promised instant relaxation whenever he landed on it. But this was a bed, big and soft and white, better than any at any hotel. He stretched out for a long, luxurious moment before it kicked in that he didn't know where he was.

And he was naked. Oh god.

He sat up and tried to look around but the world was a blur. Without thinking he reached for the nightstand, felt his familiar badge folder, and beyond that a glasses case. He slipped them on, bringing the world into focus. But he had been wearing contacts, where were they? And how did his glasses get here? He pulled this pair off and found that they weren't his glasses, although they fit well and were his prescription. What was going on?

Movement brought pain, and the realization that he was wearing bandages on his chest. He pulled the sheet around his hips and headed through the open door of the bathroom to investigate. He recognized the lumps under his skin right off, portcaths, commonly used for chemotherapy. He had been abducted, which meant some kind of Unsub, one who had implanted containers of drugs under his skin. They could be leaking something into his veins right now, or could at any time. For a moment he was cold and stiff and he could smell the stink of burning fish livers and death. He clung to the sink and shook through the sudden bolt of fear. Get it together, he thought. There is nothing to do but live through this. You fixed it the last time, you will this time. Now get a grip.

Thankfully the wardrobe and chest in the bedroom provided clothing, even shoes, all in his sizes. He dressed quickly, hissing at the pain as the stitches tugged, then went to look out the window; water, perhaps a beach house. It was a comfortable prison, at least what he had seen so far. A quick check of the room turned up only his badge, no gun or cell phone although he had taken both on his run. Great.

He explored the upper part of the house much as it had been explored a half hour before. He noticed that all the other rooms were empty, and that only one showed signs of life. It had been occupied recently, the bed not yet made, the clothing and clutter on the vanity indicating a female presence. He sat on the vanity stool a moment, took a deep breath, and thought back. The van had been operated by a man; a man had jumped out at him. Unless they were working for someone it was unlikely that a woman was the Unsub. Besides, this did not fit the pattern for a female Unsub. So far this spoke to a highly organized male.

Other victim was a much more likely scenario.

He stood up and headed for the stairs. Right now his goal was to find a way out of there or a way to call for help or both; past that, to profile the Unsub, because a profile was always the best weapon, and foremost, to protect the other victim. Duty and chivalry would allow nothing else.

Thankfully she was not that hard to find.

As he came down the stairs he stopped to examine the door at the foot. It looked to be heavy, thick, something that fit with the rest of the house in design but not purpose. It had a seal around it, and a pass in the center. It had a complicated electronic lock that opened from the other side. And at the moment it had a dining room chair wedged under the handle.

Just as he was going to move the chair and try the lock he heard a sound from a room behind him. He stepped around to look and found the other victim, or so best odds told him. She was willowy, with soft brown waves of hair that hung past her shoulders, ivory porcelain skin and something that reminded him of someone, although he could not say who. And something else, something that drew his eye and locked it in place. If he stepped back he might not say she was pretty, but she was beautiful.

She looked to be making a hot cup of something. Now she looked up, two sharp brown eyes met his, she gave him a gentle smile and he realized he might be in trouble here. "Good morning." She said

"Good morning. Ummm..."

"I'm not the bad guy." She said in this soft Virginia outside the beltway accent. "Granted, I have no way of proving that, really."

"Ummm..."

"Well, I do have this." She tugged down her collar and showed the upper edge of a bandage. "I don't know what they put in me."

"Ummm..."

"Do you want some coffee or something?"

"Ummm..." Okay, work first. He could consider what Morgan would call his lack of game later. "Are we...alone here?"

"Near as I can tell. I checked everyplace I could find that looked big enough to hide a person. The door at the foot of the stairs is locked, and there's a rollup door in the cellar that's locked but I looked everywhere else. I couldn't find any way off either."

"Off?"

She nodded. "We're on an island."

Oh crap. Spencer turned from her and looked out the windows. Sure enough, water wherever he looked. "We should go have a look around."

"We?"

He had no clue how he could defend her if anything happened, but still. "We. Just in case."

She put down the mug she was drinking from and tucked a dish towel around it. "All right Agent Reid, you know best." Wait a minute, how did she know his name? "I peeked at your badge when I went looking to see if anyone was here. I didn't get any closer, I swear."

Oh. All right. "Come on. Um, it's Spencer, by the way."

"Nice to meet you; I'm Clara."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Day 02**

Spencer checked out the entire island, as much as he could reach. As Clara had said there didn't seem to be anyone in residence, at least not where he could see. There were those two locked doors that disquieted him. And there was something else. "So whoever did this to us just left us here?" Clara asked as they returned to the kitchen.

"No. He's watching us." Spencer turned and pointed to the corner of the ceiling. "See the red dot up there?"

It took a moment for the shape to resolve out of the shadows. But he saw the implications come to her once it had. "A camera?"

"I spotted them in every room. He's observing every inch of the island."

"So he brought us here and now he's watching us. Maybe even from that locked room."

"Maybe," which was the part that he did not like. "I wish there was some way we could communicate, every bit of information helps to build a profile."

"A profile?"

"A description of the Unsub based on their behavior."

"Oh." She nodded like this made sense. "Unsub?"

He couldn't help it, he chuckled to himself. Clearly he needed to back up a few. "Unknown subject. I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit; we hunt serial offenders, mostly murders. We use what we learn from analyzing the crimes to build a profile, which helps to identify the person and their likely next move. Once you can get ahead of them you can stop them and save lives."

He could tell from the fascination in her eyes that she actually got it on the first pass. Nice. "That sounds a lot more exciting than being a school principal." She said. "Would that help?" She lifted her mug in the direction of a binder lying on the work surface. "While you read that what kind of coffee would you like?"

Information. Something the Unsub left. Spencer reached for it eagerly. "Um, what are my options?"

"A lot." He looked up to find one of those pod machines on the counter and a cupboard full of different kinds. "I confess I've wanted to try one of these." She said with a chuckle. "One good thing about this, it makes better green tea than I expected."

"I agree." He's been considering one of these machines as well, handy but a little costly. Would the taste be worth it? "Um, pick one at random for me? Is there any milk or...?"

"All right. There's cream and all kinds of flavored stuff in the refrigerator."

And there was sugar in a jar on the counter. "Good." At least the Unsub provided coffee. While she bustled about he opened the binder. "Are you Dr. Lee?"

"Yes. Why?"

"This is a very organized Unsub who targeted us directly." He held up the binder to show the first page. "This is addressed to us."

She shivered a little. "Lovely. What does he say?"

Spencer read over it quickly, then back again to catch the nuances. "Apparently he believes we volunteered to be part of his research project. Or their research project, we could be dealing with more than one here."

Clara looked over from where she was doctoring mugs, "More than one? How can you tell? What kind of creamer?"

"Whatever. And three spoons of sugar, please. From the syntax of this memo, the writer is speaking in the plural."

"Three? I may have to weep for your pancreas."

"It's been holding up. According to this we're in the first stage of the project, observation. We're supposed to carry on our normal activities. The only thing they're specifically disallowing between the two of us is physical contact; this says that will be met with punishment."

"What kind of punishment?" Clara placed a mug in front of him and settled across the island on another stool.

"It doesn't say. Trying to leave the island will result in termination."

"As in they'll kill us?"

"According to this we each have one portcath full of cyanide."

"Portcath?" She asked.

In reply he pointed to the lumps under his skin. "They're commonly used to deliver chemotherapy to cancer patients. They're usually threaded into the subclavian vein and can be set off remotely."

"If he sets it off what are our chances?"

"A lethal dose straight to the heart? We'd have less than a minute."

By now her eyes were wide. "And we can't just cut them out?"

"Odds are he'd set them off as we were trying."

"So we're not leaving."

"Not without help, no." Spencer looked down at the memo again. "According to this we're going to be under observation for seven days, then the next stage of the project will begin."

"Seven days." Clara cradled her mug and thought about this. "Last thing I remember it was Friday morning. Assuming you were pretty clean shaven on Friday..."'

"I was." He scratched at the bit of growth on his jaw. Thankfully he had never been a rug, but he could use a shave. He'd go upstairs and have one soon.

"...then it's likely Saturday. Seven days means next Saturday."

"He's working." Spencer said with a smile.

"Which means we likely are alone. So what do we do, try to call for help, not that I've seen a phone, or try to talk to him...?"

He considered this. "Being kidnapped by delusional Unsubs is kind of a job hazard for us." He admitted. "We kind of have a protocol for it."

"Oh?"

"Communicate if you can, but pacify the Unsub. Play along. Don't get yourself or any other victims hurt. Just try to delay things until the team arrives. Assuming someone will report you missing..."

"My staff at the school will, when I don't show up for work. But they'll call the cops, not the FBI."

"We have contacts at DC Metro. By now my team has already connected the two cases and is going through our lives to see where we crossed paths."

He was kind of surprised to see her flush. "I think I would have remembered meeting you, Spencer."

Yeah, he may have flushed at that himself. "Um, I think I would have as well. But I mean when we both crossed paths with the same person within a reasonable time frame. That person is the Unsub. When they find him that will lead them to us. Seven days is ample time for them. And in the meantime he's not asking us to do anything risky or dangerous; if we play along we're relatively safe."

"So you're saying our best bet is to hang out here, keep our hands off each other and wait for your team to rescue us?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged gently. "They've been saying I need a vacation."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Day 15**

"A vacation?" Kate asked.

She and her old teammate Andi Swan were interviewing Clara in another room. Now Clara chuckled. "Well, other than the cyanide yes, the first week was actually rather relaxing. I guess you could say my people have always been at their best under pressure."

"Your people?" Andi asked.

"I'm descended from George Washington by way of Mary Anna Custis Lee on my father's mother's side. And of course she and her husband Robert there; my ancestor was the youngest son of his second son, Rooney. And my mother's mother was a descendent of Thomas Jackson. When your ancestors have been through that much you kind of have to bear up with dignity and good humor or you risk them coming back out of the grave to give you a stern talking to. Marse Robert once made Jeb Stuart, one of the finest and most courageous cavalry commanders in history, cry by giving him a stern talking to. "

Andi chuckled. "I've heard the term Virginia royalty; I've just never seen it in action."

"Does any of that really matter?" Kate asked.

Clara's smile twinkled. "Are you kidding? My school serves an impoverished part of the city with a serious drug and gang problem and a heavily African American population. With my lineage I nearly doubled our scholarship fund from the Arlington chapter Daughters of the Confederacy alone."

That started both Kate and Andi laughing. "Okay, now I'm impressed." Kate said.

"I didn't create the system; I'm just making it work for me."

"So what happened next?"

* * *

><p>"Pacify the Unsub and sit tight." Dave nodded. "Given the situation it was the most logical plan. I'm only sorry it took so long for us to find you."<p>

Spencer nodded. "As time went on and you didn't I started to realize what happened; too much paperwork?" He sighed when Dave nodded. "I'm thinking about finally going digital."

"If an old fart like me can do it so can you. So what happened next?"

* * *

><p><strong>Day 02<strong>

Spencer flipped quickly through the rest of the binder. "It looks like the rest of this is manuals for the mechanical systems in the house." He said. "I'll go over it all before lunch."

"Better you than me, I call the super when something's wrong. So what do you think is up with those doors?" Clara asked before she drained her mug. "I'm having coffee. I'm still shaking off whatever he gave me."

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"I think so. I react differently to medications than most people is all. I'll be fine."

Oh hell. Spencer considered this. She certainly seemed healthy, but it was data he needed to take into consideration. "Normally I wouldn't pry but given that we're stuck out here and the Unsub might know..."

"Oh, I understand." She said as she started making another cup, "Hypopituitary syndrome, including Type 2 Diabetes. Don't worry, I'm fine." She said, likely seeing the wince on his features. "I've got it well under control. I don't know how much you know about it..."

"Some."

"My last a1c was 5.8, without meds. I just watch what I eat and work out is all." She smiled as he relaxed. That was a normal reading. "I think he knows it though. I found copies of all my meds upstairs, there's a bottle of stevia drops in here and that's the kind of scale I use to keep track of my carbs." She nodded at the three arm balance on the counter.

"I was wondering about that." He said. "And these glasses are my prescription but not mine. He has access to our medical records, which ought to narrow it down. I hate to ask but maybe we should go over our medical histories later; see if we ever saw the same doctor."

"If it'll help, sure. What about those doors?" She asked again.

He got up and looked at the one off the kitchen that led to the pantry. "They look almost original to the house, but the locks are new. I think the rollup door downstairs might lead to a boat house. These would keep fumes from coming upstairs."

"And the locks?"

"Electronic. They might be accessible remotely. Possibly to lock us out while he unloads supplies."

A concerned frown crossed her face. "And our entire food supply is down there. I'm not comfortable with that."

With her health history she wouldn't be. "Let's move it upstairs."

She nodded. "First thing. Then I'll cook us breakfast." She moved to what looked like a desk in the kitchen, opened drawers until she found a notepad and pencil. "Unless you want to cook breakfast."

They started heading downstairs. He winced a little. "I, um, don't know how to cook."

That seemed to surprise her, "At all?"

"Not really, no." Diana Reid was a decent cook, for a suburban working mother, but with her condition she tended to forget to shop, or cook, or worse to forget she was cooking and nearly burn the house down. After the time she set the wall above the stove on fire Dad had decided that she wasn't allowed to cook anymore, either he did it or they had take-out, which meant that after he left they had a lot of take-out, TV dinners, grazed on snacks when they could. After that it was college and eating in the cafeteria, and then DC and the Bureau. DC apartments cost a fright, what he could afford along with Bennington was a rent controlled studio with a kitchenette, no real room to do more than boil water and heat things. "I've never had a chance to learn. Do you cook?"

"All the time. There's not much take out I can eat safely. OK, so I'll do the cooking, you get the dishes and mechanical stuff."

"Fair enough." By now they reached the cellar. He looked over the ranks of refrigerators, freezers and shelves. "What do you want to come up?"

Ninety minutes later he came back in the house from a rather dicey trip out to the cliff side where the support tanks and sheds were located. "We have a full tank of water." He said. "He has a marine desalination system on it, so it should stay full. While we ought to use the bottled for cooking and drinking, just in case, the tank water should be fine for bathing and cleaning. What is that smell?"

"Poached eggs over mushrooms and bacon; I hope the gas for the stove is good since I've been using it."

"Yes, we have a full tank. Also the house runs on solar power, the batteries look full but we might want to conserve in case a storm comes in. It looks like the appliances downstairs have a back-up generator attached, just in case. And there is, um, ample room in the sewage composter."

"Lovely. Wash up before we eat."

"I am." There was a powder room off the kitchen for it. "After breakfast I'd like to move some furniture around."

When he came out she was putting the food on the table. "All right." She said. "What are we moving?"

"Beds. I think we should share a room. Not like that." He said as her eyebrow rose. "I want to move two single beds in one room, that way in case someone sneaks in through the boat dock at night you're not alone."

She gave him a lazy smile that curled up under his breastbone somehow. "That's very chivalrous of you Spencer." She said. "I agree. Your room, I think, mine has more furniture. If you don't mind a stranger sleeping in there with you."

He smiled back at her. Somehow she already didn't feel like a stranger. "Not at all."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Day 02**

After breakfast they set about moving furniture. They ended up having to take apart the bed in Spencer's room to move it, and then they moved in two single beds from one of the other rooms. Between them they got the beds clean, found linens, got them through the laundry, and did everything else. Then they broke for lunch. "There's some roast turkey breast in there." Clara said. "How do sandwiches sound?"

"Good to me." Spencer replied.

"Do you want to get the laundry rolled while I work on lunch?"

"Ummm, not really." Instead he trailed her into the kitchen. "We can do that after."

"It takes two of us to roll laundry?"

"I'm still concerned that we might not be alone. I've had people sneak up on a partner before." Perhaps he was being a bit paranoid, but

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh. Well, since you put it that way."

After lunch they explored, this time with an eye toward discovery, not safety. "I had a lot of these books in my Goodreads list." She said, looking over a newer shelf in the parlor. "And these movies in my Netflix queue. This so-and-so's been stalking me."

"Likely. He's extremely organized. It looks like these may have been based off my library patterns." Spencer considered a moment. "He, or they, are likely in their late 40's to 50's, white male, well-educated, professional, medical background...we may be looking at doctors here." He saw a veiled look come over her eyes at the mention of anything medical. Not that he blamed her, some things he'd rather stay between him and Maeve. "Not that it really matters now. Well, it will to my team, unfortunately, but not to us."

"All right then." She kept looking at the movies. "I think these are mostly mine, if not all of them"

He moved to look with her, close enough to pick up on her light perfume. "No, these were ones I had stacked up at home to watch. You like horror movies?"

"I love horror movies. The scarier the ghost story the better."

"What's your favorite holiday?"

"Christmas."

"Second favorite?"

"Halloween," she replied. He tried to conceal his quick smile. Close enough. She picked up on it though. "Halloween?"

"And my second is Christmas."

Now she was grinning. "Isn't that interesting? Now what are we going to do with the rest of the afternoon? Oh!" Her eyes lit on something and she smiled. "Okay, so I admit to a closet hobby."

He looked around the sofa and spotted the basket of yarn and needles. "You're not the only one. Although I only ever did a scarf."

"Really?" Her smile sparkled. "I can teach you a bit if you want."

"I love that, but I want to move the furniture first."

"Why?" Clara was already looking in the basket.

"Two rules, don't leave and don't touch. I think it would be less risky if we moved two chairs in front of the TV instead of a sofa."

She looked around the room with him. "I can see it. Let's move this over there..."

It didn't take long to shuffle the furniture around, to put the couch over there and a wing chair and rocker in front of the television, complete with footstools and a table between them to make it clear that they were not touching. In the process they found a small, wind up radio. "I might be able to use that to help figure out where we are." He said.

She was looking out the French doors in the parlor. "There's an old potting bench out here you could use for a work table. I'll stick close but I want tea first."

Mugs acquired, they spent the rest of the afternoon working in quiet company, him at the bench trying to see what he could do with the radio, her in the hammock chair, using the big hammock as a table while she sorted yarn. And while they worked they chatted, talked about the work they did, what they had studied back in school, hobbies, all the little things.

* * *

><p><strong>Day 15<strong>

"Were you being held by an Unsub or were you on a date?" Dave asked.

Spencer had to blink and consider this. "To be honest when the Unsub wasn't on the island it was actually enjoyable, as long as you were ignoring the cameras, of course. We're considering doing it again."

"Doing it again?" Alex asked.

"Without the abuse, of course, and in a different location. You know, rent a cabin by a lake for a week or something, see if we can re-create the experience."

The two older agents were quiet a moment. "That's called a va-ca-tion." Dave said finally as Alex hid her chuckle.

Spencer winced a little and nodded. "Yeah, we're going to try to do that more often."

"Good."

"So you relaxed and spent a lot of time talking." Alex said, clearly trying to get this back on course. "I assume you tried to get off the island?"

"We tried but there wasn't anything even remotely boat-like. And I didn't think taking the risk of the Unsub spotting us building one worth it. I expected the team to be there in approximately 72 hours." He sighed. "Of course it would be the one doctor I only discussed with Emily and Maeve. And there wasn't any way to make contact."

"Oh you were making contact all right." Dave said. "You were protecting her though?"

Spencer nodded firmly. "Yes, constantly. We even slept in the same room."

* * *

><p><strong>Day 02<strong>

"I haven't had a roommate since high school." Clara said as she rolled over to look at him from her bed.

Spencer couldn't help smiling. The room was as safe as he was going to get it; there was a wedge under the door and a chair blocking the path around his bed. Someone would have to break the door down and climb over him to get to her. He hadn't had a roommate since the Academy but he remembered the feeling well. "Do you still remember your roommate?"

"Oh yeah, Kim. We're still good friends, we try to have lunch once a week but her schedule is rough. Talk all the time though. What about you?"

"Ethan. We went to CalTech together and then the Academy. Until he dropped out, he's a jazz musician in New Orleans now."

"Really? I bet he's happy."

"He is. I enjoyed having a roommate, he'd have people over all the time, I'd fall asleep listening to them talk."

"Oh yeah. It was a lot like that in the sorority house. There were three other girls in the suite we shared, I'd fall asleep listening to them chatter in the other room. Now I can't sleep when it's quiet."

"And I can't sleep in the dark." He admitted. "I was going to ask if we could leave the light on in the bathroom."

She considered this. "We can if you like, but I have an idea, if you don't mind opening your barricade."

"What?"

She told him. He grinned. Five minutes later he was back with a different radio from the one he was working on and a curious lamp she had found when they were going through the house. As it turned out the bulb mimicked flickering candle light, and with a little adjusting he was able to tune in to the BBC. In the gentle, low light, with the quiet, sonorous voice of the narrator in the background, this little room in this strange house became their cozy, warm cave. He looked over at her, her hair loosely braided into pigtails, her smile as she looked back his way, and had the sudden urge to pull her into his bed and...and...snuggle.

She caught the look on his face. "What is it?"

"I'll, um, tell you later." He said. Snuggle. Oh come on, surely he wanted to do other things. He wasn't twelve after all. But he'd always had a thing for snuggling in at night, something he hadn't been able to do since he outgrew his mother. The closest he had come since then was curling up with Maeve's letters, not quite the same. Now he had every desire to just curl up with her like a couple of puppies. He knew why but it didn't make it feel any more normal. "Good night Clara."

"Good night Spencer."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

**Day 15**

Hotch was busy with the Coast Guard and the Navy and Morgan didn't know who all else, trying to sort the bodies they found at the island. Morgan gave him the high sign that he needed to talk to him as soon as he was free, and then headed back to find the others. JJ and Garcia were in a conference room the hospital let them use, going through a file box. "Hey gorgeous, I need your help. First, can you get on the net from here?"

"Foolish mortal, I can get on from anywhere." Garcia pulled her laptop from her bag. "Why do you ask?"

"Something's hinky with Reid, but I can't put my finger on it."

"What do you mean?" JJ asked.

"Doctor Chu is running all kinds of tests on him, like she thinks he's got something. But she wouldn't tell me what. And Savannah wouldn't help me."

"Why not?"

"She can't share patient information. She said I should get it from him."

"And he's not talking." JJ shook her head. "I can't believe he's being that childish."

"Um, were you guys not listening during the whole you tease too much lecture?" Garcia asked.

"It might be relevant to the case." Morgan said.

"He is a profiler, Derek. If it's relevant he'll say so. Otherwise it's his business. It's private, leave it alone."

"I respect his privacy!" Morgan insisted.

"No you don't." JJ scoffed.

"Oh, and you do?" Garcia asked. "You know, I love you guys, but this is why I didn't say anything about doing Community Theater. It's important to me and I didn't want to get teased about it.

"Are we really that bad?" JJ asked

"Yeah. Especially with Reid. You guys have a lot of repair work to do there. If you want him to trust you again you have to start by trusting him to do his job and share what matters to the case. And leave the rest alone until he decides to tell you."

"I don't like it." Morgan said.

"Do you trust Savannah?" Garcia asked.

"Of course."

"Then trust her to handle it. She's a doctor, this is her job."

"Yeah, but Reid's acting like a kid!"

Garcia sighed. "Okay, let's try this another way. If Hotch had something medical going on that didn't affect his performance in the field and he didn't share with the team, would you be upset?"

"No. Of course not."

"What about Rossi?"

"No."

"What about Kate? Or Alex or Emily?"

"No. Where are you going with this?"

"Why is it different with Reid?"

"Because he's just a kid!" Morgan nearly blew at her.

"Derek!" Garcia laughed. "He is 34! He's a triple PhD who is celebrating thirteen years with the Bureau this year! He is not a kid! And until you start seeing him as an adult and treating him like an adult he has every reason not to share his private life with you because you will never take him seriously."

Morgan sighed. "He's my little brother, you know. I just want to help him."

"You want to help? Here." Garcia picked up the file box and put it on the table. "There could be another Unsub out there after him. Work the case."

* * *

><p>"Really?" Savannah said. She was kind of astonished. And now curious as hell, this kind of thing was so rare...<p>

"That's what Clara told me." Kim replied. They were in the doctor's lounge, grabbing a quick cup of bad coffee while comparing notes, well away from prying ears. "She said he told her. Not a clue how he knows, it's not in his chart anywhere."

"How did she end up with it?"

"Car accident. Her bitch of a mother...don't look at me like that, I met the woman...couldn't be bothered do up the straps on her car seat one day. She hits the brakes; my girl face plants the dashboard at 30 miles an hour. Instant pituitary damage."

"Damn. And there's nothing like that in his history?"

"No. His mother is schizophrenic, and he was diagnosed an Aspie a few years ago, but that was Barnes and as we now know he was completely out of his mind. Still, it's likely genetic, it runs with those two in the genetic code."

"Yeah, but couldn't it also be a marker for certain cancers?"

Kim nodded, "Craniopharynigoma. Unlikely, but I already booked him into an MRI tomorrow, just in case."

"That works."

"Now I have a question." Kim said. "Why is that man of yours so goddammed nosy?"

Savannah laughed. "He loves Reid, swears he's his little brother."

"Okay, that's cute. But I'm still not risking my license for him. Besides, Clara doesn't like to share; I figured Dr. Reid might not want to either."

"Did she ever say why not?"

"Makes her vulnerable. You don't tell just anyone where your weak spots are." Kim shook her head. "You know I only ever saw her go through a crash once. It was so horrible and no one could help her. They didn't even understand what was wrong, everyone kept telling her to suck it up and get over it and all the while she kept getting sicker until I thought she was going to die on me. That's why I got into medicine." She sighed. "And now there are two of them."

"Yeah."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Day 15**

"It sounds like it wasn't that bad at first." Andi said.

"It wasn't." Clara replied. "You can only stay afraid for so long, once I realized we weren't going to drop dead it got kinda comfortable. By the fourth day I was starting to forget that we were in harm's way." She smiled gently. "And I do enjoy Spencer's company."

"Really?" Kate asked.

"Oh yes, he's a fascinating conversationalist. We could talk about anything. I think we did that week."

* * *

><p><strong>Day 04<strong>

By the fourth day they had both decided they wanted one of those coffee makers.

Their days had fallen into a pattern. Up in the morning to work out, because Clara insisted and Spencer thought that just hanging around the gym waiting for her was silly. She would cook breakfast, then he would do dishes and they would do whatever chores wanted to be done. The rest of the day was given over to books and hobbies, her knitting, his fiddling with the radio, trying to listen in on the military jets that kept going by overhead. After dinner they would shut down most of the house to conserve power, settle in the living room to watch movies before tucking in to bed.

But mostly they talked. Easy, casual things early in the day, discussion of the news they heard over the radio, the books they had been reading, museum exhibits they had both seen. As the day turned into night the discussion always seemed to get more personal, more intimate. It felt like the calls he had made to Maeve, the times he had used a drop phone instead of a pay phone, had called her from his couch, curled up and talking for what seemed like hours on end. "So why be so frugal?" He asked one night. He was curled up in the wing chair, now turned more toward her than the screen, long legs tucked under him as he cradled a cup of hot cocoa. "Not that it's my business but why save?"

"Oh, I like to travel." She replied. She was also curled up, in the big rocker, a mug of tea warming her hands, her knitting lying idle in her lap. "I've been trying to see as much of the country as I can, trying to learn about the people out there. I started with the Civil War battlefields, the old plantations, important locations north and south, that sort of thing. Now I'm looking further out west, trying to learn about what came after." She was, perhaps, quieter than she ought to be. "I suppose I'm trying to learn about my own past, my own history, ancestry. What about you, why do you still drive an old car, live in a cheap apartment?"

"Mmm, health reasons." Spencer had long since given up on hiding his past; it helped no one, least of all him. "My mother has Schizophrenia. She's living in a care home."

She winced. "I'm sorry."

"She's actually doing really well, they have her on a good med schedule now, she's been stable enough to start taking day trips out and start writing again. She's happy there, really." He sighed. "I was saving in case I needed to cover the cost for both of us. Thankfully I'm outgrowing the age when you start showing symptoms; it looks like I won't need to worry about it." Now he considered. "Maybe I should travel. I mean, I've seen a lot of the country, but only while working. That kind of distracts you from seeing the sights."

"I'll say. I always thought it better to travel with a plan, and then be open to experience along the way. What are you interested in?"

"History." That was an easy one. "To be honest I've lived in the DC area for thirteen years now, I haven't even explored outside the beltway."

Her jaw dropped. "Serious? Oh I could be your tour guide, I lived here my whole life, my Nana shared tons of oral history passed down through the family, I could tell you all kinds of stories. We wouldn't even need to wait for summer; we could go on week-ends."

The thought of a sunny spring day, out on the back roads. They needed a convertible or something. He didn't even have to think. "Let's do it."

Her smile was a bright as the sun on that imaginary day. "Yes!" She agreed. "Who knows, if we travel well together we might go further out come summer."

Just the thought of it was filling him with this bubbling joy, an excitement he hadn't felt since he saw Maeve's number on his phone. He'd always dreamed of something like this but he never had anyone to go with. Everyone he knew would think it silly, funny, childish. But she didn't, wouldn't. He didn't have to be alone anymore. He looked around, unfolded himself, and went to fetch an object he'd seen on a shelf in the back of the room. He placed the globe on the coffee table. "Ready?" He asked.

Her grin kept growing. She leaned in, lifted a finger, and closed her eyes. "Ready."

He grinned, spun the globe, and watched her finger go down. She stopped the globe and they both looked. "Hokkaido," he read.

"Japan." She beamed. "It's perfect!"

Tokyo. Kyoto. Mt. Fuji. "Yes!" What an adventure!

"We should put a map up." She said, unfolding her legs. "We can start looking up what to see..." He watched something come to her then, the excitement kind of go out of her as she fell back in the chair. "This isn't our home. For a bit there I forgot."

Not their home. Their home. For a moment that echoed in the space between his throat and his heart. Their home. "We're going to get out of here." He said, trying to be convincing. "They're going to come for us any day."

"I believe you." Clara said. She started picking up her fallen knitting.

Spencer folded himself back into his chair and found his mug. What surprised him more was what came out of his mouth next. "We could go out and look at some of those battlefields one week-end soon, before it gets snowy." Was he really even daring to consider? How could he ever explain? "Maybe find an inn to use as a home base or something."

He could feel her looking at him again, studying him. "Maybe," she said, cautiously, "Movie?"

Maybe he shouldn't get his hopes up here. "Sure."

She tipped her head like she was considering him. "I'm not saying no you know."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Do you really want to "travel" with a workaholic health nut?"

She didn't mean travel, not exactly. "If you don't mind "traveling" with a workaholic nerd." He thought he could understand her concerns though. "If it's your health issues you're worried about I don't have any problem working with them." The entire sum of what she was dealing with wasn't a tenth of the difficulty of schizophrenia.

She considered him again and seemed to make her decision. "I know of a lovely little inn in Fredricksburg. One of my sister vixens runs it, she keeps telling me I need to come out for a few nights."

"Really?" He was, of course, assuming two bedrooms, but even without the sleep-over aspect it could be a lot of fun. A week-end tramping around historic sights, coming back to a cozy country in, tea by the fire at night just like this. "We should give it a try."

That warm smile returned to her face and he had the distinct impression that if it was allowed she might just pull his arm around her. "Let's plan for that." She said. "Movie?"

"Sure."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-two**

**Day 05**

Spencer never had to figure out how to tell Clara what was bothering him. Because the next night, as they nestled down in the flickering lamp light, she told him. "Really?" He asked.

"Yeah," she said. "It started happening after the accident. Of course I was a toddler so I didn't know; it's just been like this as long as I remember. It's just...it makes relationships really tricky."

"Yeah, I know." He smiled when she rolled to look at him. "It can also be genetic."

She stared at him a long moment until she finally realized what he was saying. "Seriously?" He nodded. She fell back to the bed and laughed. "So what was your range?"

"Under one to twelve." he said. "You?"

"Under one to nineteen. Um, it's supposed to be up around two units per milliliter for a man, isn't it?"

"Yes, and I believe four for a woman of reproductive age."

"Eight, I'm on estrogen. You said your girlfriend died."

"She did." He took a deep breath and forced that memory away. "She was shot in front of me."

"Oh god, Spencer."

"Yeah, I..."

"How the hell are you even out of bed?" She was shocked and somehow outraged on his behalf at the same time.

That started him laughing. She did understand. Maeve had been the only one before now. "Willpower? My team was on a case, they needed me, it was enough of a distraction..."

"Like a distraction would help."

"Well, no, it really didn't." That was what no one understood. It wasn't just grieving, he had been physically ill for weeks. "Did you ever lose anyone?"

"My parents, not that it was any great loss. And my Nana, Grandmother Martha."

Her parents. Oh god, he could not imagine the pain there. "What happened to your parents?"

She was quiet a long moment. "Your mother loves you? Even though she's not well?"

"Yes." Absolutely. He never doubted his mother's love, even when she was too delusional to recognize him.

"I can't say the same about mine. Are you familiar with Narcissistic Personality Disorder?"

"Ouch."

"My step-father was a drunken bastard who thought we were a package deal." The way she said it made it clear what she meant. "We had a long talk about it one night that involved a baseball bat. Mom got mad at me about it, she said if he left to go be with another woman it would be my fault for not keeping him happy at home."

Spencer Reid was not a violent man, but there were times when it was considered. Mark Harrison, Owen Porter Sr., Arthur Malcolm. This was one of those times. "I'm sorry. I'm glad you had the bat."

"Oh, so am I. Not long after that I got sent off to Foxwood Hall. Boarding school. No surprise there, all the women in my family went. And I never heard from them again. First free week-end I thought I was going home with everyone else, except I had left message after message trying to see when they were going to pick me up and not had any reply. Finally I asked Kim's family if they could drop me off. We got there and the house was empty."

"They weren't there?"

"No, I mean _empty_. Not even the furniture left. I found out later they moved to Richmond."

No, maybe he did understand this pain. "They just...abandoned you?"

"Yep. God only knows why. I was furious, they left me in the lurch, I didn't have a dime to my name let alone tuition. At the same time I was relieved, I didn't have to deal with all the drama and the petty games and the abuse anymore. But then the next day it hit me that my Mother was really gone, my _Mother_ was _gone_, and I just crashed so hard. It was three weeks before I even started to recover."

"I'm sorry." He knew that pain, the feeling of your body being out of your control, of not being able to feel what you were really feeling because _this_ was going on, of not being able to shake it off but having to disconnect, to ignore it and keep _going_ because the world wouldn't stop for you. "When I was seven my Dad left." He said. "He and Mom had been having problems for a long time, and she was getting sicker and he just couldn't handle it anymore. So he left and then Mom went delusional. Really delusional, she didn't recognize me for about six weeks. That first night I tried to crawl into bed with her and she pushed me out of the room and locked the door." Clara groaned in sympathy. "I crashed pretty hard for that one. I didn't know what it was at the time, but yeah."

"Anyone since then?" She asked.

He chuckled without humor, "Since then or since I had to put Mom in Bennington? She didn't speak to me for three years after that one. Let's see, there was my best friend from college, we started the Academy together and one day he just left. I came back to the dorm and found his side empty. My mentor, he left and left a note. One of my teammates, she left after a bad shoot. One of my best friends, the mother of my Godchild, was transferred out; I didn't see her for a year. Another teammate faked her own death; I crashed hard after that one. It was ten weeks before I really recovered."

"Faked her death?" There was a note of outrage in Clara's voice.

"Yeah. I understand why now, but I was so angry at the time. That hurt so much."

She let out a huff of anger herself and flopped back down.

"Then that same person moved to London a year after she got back. Then Maeve died, and my best friend moved away to Boston."

She was silent a long moment. "I have to ask again, _how are you out of bed?_ And how did you ever get up to that nineteen?"

He chuckled again. "That's when I was talking with Maeve regularly." He said. "She was always afraid to meet in person, she had a stalker and she was afraid of making me crash if she had to run again. I kept telling her I would take the risk but she didn't want to hurt me." It was the most loving gesture, as hard as it had been. "How about you? Anyone else?"

"Nana. Martha Lee Hotchner. I always thought she was just a friend of my father's family, she'd come around for tea the first Sunday of every month to check on me. It wasn't until after I was orphaned that she told me who she really was." He could see her smile in the dim light. "I was so relieved to have someone that I just cried and cried that day. Finally broke that crash."

"She helped you?"

"She did what she could. She said my father took after his father, was a hard drinking man free with his fists, her words, and would not do well with a daughter born on the wrong side of the blanket. Not that it matters nowadays, but to her generation it did. She saw me through school and let me stay with her for my debutante season and sponsored me for it as well, that went a long way toward clearing up my reputation. I did a lot of living history work that year, and she told me all the old stories. That was when I got up to that nineteen, I really felt like I was part of a family then even though they were all seven generations gone. She left me her apartment when she passed, saying she was sorry she'd only been able to give me a home for a short time but at least she could keep a roof over my head. She said it was up to me to make it my own home now." Clara laughed, her eyes shining in the light. "I heard later that everyone wondered why she held on so long. It took her seven days to die after her last stroke, with her sons there I couldn't go, but then I had already said my good-byes. Funny thing was, she died the day after school let out. It was almost like she knew I would crash and wanted to make sure I wouldn't have to take off work for it."

"She sounds like a remarkable woman." Wait a minute. "Hotchner?"

"That was her married name, yes; my father's name. When I went to change my name and leave my parents behind me she told me not to take it, that it would not be a good connection to claim. So I connected with her family and all those stories she told. Why?"

"My Unit Chief is a Hotchner."

"From Manassas?"

"I have no idea."

"Oh." She rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling. "That could be interesting, couldn't it."

That wasn't a question. "He's a good man." He said. "I trust him with my life. He wouldn't hurt you."

"Good to know. When this Unsub said punishment, what do you think he meant?"

"I don't know. I'd rather not find out if we can avoid it. Why?"

"Still want to go see the battlefields?"

The discussion they had yesterday. Which wasn't about vacation plans at all. It was about risks worth taking. "Very much so."

"Because Fredericksburg is only an hour out of the city." She rolled back to look at him. "We could use my apartment for a home base, instead of getting an inn."

That wasn't exactly what she was proposing. He looked at her, all gentle eyes and soft curves and knew that she would never hurt him if it could at all be helped. She understood. She knew the risks, she was taking them too. He felt gravity double and double again and was suddenly quite glad for the pile of blankets over him. No, he was not twelve any more. "We could do that."

"I mean, if you want to." She said, as her cheeks turned dusky pink in the dim light.

"I do." The clock downstairs started its nightly wheezing of twelve bells.

"We should probably sleep now."

"Yeah. Good night."

"Good night."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-three**

**Day 06**

The next day seemed filled with portents. The air seemed to crackle with energy. Spencer swore he smelled ozone coming from the scrubby brush in the garden. The sunlight seemed to have weight.

Or maybe it was just the way Clara kept looking at him.

She was beautiful, he realized. All women were in their own way, but somehow just this morning he really saw her beauty. He found himself fascinated by the soft curls of her hair, the quirk of her smile, the warm pink of her cheeks, the way her body bent and swayed as she moved around the kitchen. And when she looked at him he thought he could drown in those eyes that were so innocent and so knowing at the same time. He watched her with new awareness all day, while she made breakfast, swept the kitchen, sat in the afternoon with her book on the sunlit porch and didn't read a thing. "What are you thinking?" She asked as she went about preparing dinner.

"That you're beautiful." He admitted before he had a chance to over think it. "And that I have a confession to make." He took a deep breath as she turned to look at him curiously. "I'm an addict." He admitted. "I've been clean for seven years, five months and sixteen days. But they say once you are..."

"I know." She didn't seem angry, only curious. "What happened, if you don't mind my asking?"

So as she dredged chicken and set it in the oven to cook and did something with broccoli he told her about Tobias Hankel and the long day and night he'd spent in that shed. "That's why I can't tell my friends about this...this..." This thing they had in common.

"The fear response can't be sustained." She agreed. "After that it became something intimate from what it sounds like. Your body can't tell good intimacy from bad, we're just not wired that way. And when he hurt you you must have crashed so hard."

She got it. She _understood_. "Yeah. He dealt with the pain of life with his father through a combination of LSD and a heavy narcotic. I didn't realize until later that narcotics mask the symptoms of...this."

She just chuckled. "I know. I remember having my appendix out, lying there with morphine in my arm thinking I should be crashing for doing this alone but I'm not. That stuff is so tempting it's scary."

"I know." He didn't want to think about the number of nights he was tempted to just go feel _better_, to get his appetite back, to be able to sleep because he was so exhausted, to drain the anxiety and sadness away into that needle and let it float away. "It was the best I'd felt since I left home for college. But it wasn't worth losing everything for."

She smiled. "I can't imagine how hard it was. You should be proud of walking away from it like that."

He looked down at the tea in his mug and took a deep breath, "Hopefully I won't be alone like that anymore."

"You won't be." He caught movement and sound and looked up to see her hand inches away from his, hovering there, right where she'd stopped herself. He looked up and his eyes met hers and he was about to say to hell with the Unsub and all the rules when he realized that sound was getting louder. And she heard it too. "What is that?"

It took another moment, another heartbeat, before it sank in, "A boat." His mug hit the counter as he ran in the direction of that sound, Clara right behind him. Yes! There was a boat heading toward them, some kind of week-end fishing, pleasure, he didn't know but it was a boat. "Hey!" He called to them, waving his arms to get their attention. "Hey!"

"Hey! Up here! Hey!" Clara was right beside him, waving her dishtowel to get their attention. "Hey!"

Yes! They saw them! They were heading this way! "Hey! Up here! We're stuck here! We need help!" They were pulling up to the back of the island. "Around this way! There's a beach! This w..." All of a sudden Spencer stopped.

He heard a clanking noise coming from the cliff face.

"What is that?" Clara asked.

No. Oh no. No. Spencer sprinted into the house, across the main room, into the little hall that connected the kitchen to the gym, grabbed the cellar door and nearly yanked himself off his feet.

Locked.

It was locked.

"Son of a bitch!" He screamed as he threw a punch into it, managing only to send a shooting pain up his arm. He should have known that was the Unsub! He should have known!

"Spencer?" He turned and looked back. Clara was standing there, wringing her dishtowel, her eyes wide. "Is that him? Is that the...the Unsub?" All he could do was nod. "He's downstairs?"

Damn it. "It's going to be all right. Clara..."

He reached for her, rules be dammed, but she pulled away. "They were supposed to come for us!"

He knew. He had no idea what was taking the team so long. "They will. I swear they will."

"What do we do now?!" The panic was strong in her voice.

"Dinner," he said, trying to stay calm, trying to keep her calm. "You still need to eat. I'm going to try to make contact with him, see what he wants."

"Contact..."

"Yeah. The more we communicate the stronger the profile, and our greatest weapon is always a profile. How much longer until dinner?"

"About a half an hour."

"Okay, look." He grabbed two chairs from the dining room and shoved one under each locked door. "He shouldn't be able to get through. If he does just start screaming, I won't be far. I..." He stepped closer then, close enough to catch her scent and feel her heat. But the Unsub was here, he didn't dare. "I'll be back for dinner."

"You'd better be." She said. She seemed to find strength from somewhere and somehow stood taller. "No leaving."

"Never." He smiled as he went to find the Unsub.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

**Day 06**

Unfortunately the dammed house, a peaceful sanctuary until ten minutes ago, was also a fortress. Spencer tried every angle he could to get around to what he knew to be the open boathouse door but it was impossible. There was no path he could attempt without climbing gear, not without risking falling to the rocks below. And he would not risk that, not with even the chance of a future before him.

After about twenty minutes of trying he gave it up and headed back in. "Anything?" Clara asked.

"No. There's no way down there." He looked up at the camera. "I might try writing..."

Just then they heard the lock in the cellar pantry door snick open.

Spencer motioned her back and eased the door open. He didn't hear anything unusual. He caught the faint trace of the boat exhaust, but otherwise nothing. He eased out to the top of the stairs and looked down. From here he could see the entire room, which was well lit, and there was no one. "I'm going to go look."

"Spencer..." Clara said.

"Watch the other door; if it opens start screaming." He ached to kiss her then but couldn't. So he gave her his best reassuring smile, turned, and headed down. It didn't take long to determine that the storeroom was empty, and that it was full. "He restocked." He said when he got back up the stairs. "At least another seven days."

"Is this a good thing?" She asked. "I have to take the chicken out of the oven."

"It means he plans on keeping us here another seven days and not killing us tonight." She stopped and turned and stared at him and he realized he probably shouldn't have said that. He wanted so badly to pull her into his arms but he would not risk her being hurt. So he reached out and caught the other end of the dishtowel she was holding. "It's going to be all right. I just need to find a way to talk to him. Once I can figure out what he wants..."

Of course he was interrupted by a new sound, the growling of an engine outside. Clara startled. "What is that?" She asked.

"I don't know, but..." He turned and headed to that side of the house. Sure enough, what he had thought was an emergency generator further down the bluff was growling along. "The Unsub turned on the generator."

"Why?"

"I don't know." The solar array on the roof provided ample power for lighting and the surveillance network, why would he need more?

A few moments later they heard it. Very faintly, on the edge of hearing they heard it, this heavy mechanical buzzing that became a thumping, a regular churning pulse of a machine over and over again. "What is that?" Clara whispered, her eyes wide again.

"I don't know." But Spencer thought he should know, he knew this sound he just couldn't place it, it was too faint. He got down on the floor and pressed his ear to the floorboards but he couldn't quite make it out. "I don't know what it is."

"What do we do?"

"Eat. Come on, you need to keep your blood sugar stable. You need to eat. Come on." He took the other end of the dishtowel again and cajoled her into the kitchen until he could stick a plate in front of her. He didn't know what else to do until the Unsub decided to communicate.

It was a quiet, tense dinner, listening to that strange, mechanical noise change pitch and tempo, until it stopped. The silence of the sea was enormous as they stared at each other.

They heard a squeak from the main hall.

A soft rustle.

A small crack.

Spencer got up to look. The squeak had been the pass in the door at the foot of the stairs opening. The rustle had been a slender binder passing through. The crack had been it hitting the floor. He scooped it up and started reading.

"What does it say?" Clara asked.

"The first testing stage starts tomorrow. The door will unlock at 10 am, I'm supposed to go downstairs, the tests will begin at 10:30 and last approximately six hours. You're supposed to go down Sunday at 10 am for eight hours."

"Why the difference?"

"I don't know."

"Are you going to go down there?"

He didn't want to. What Spencer really wanted to do was go hide in a closet or maybe under a bed. He'd faced down any number of Unsubs over the years, but usually with a gun in his pants, a Kevlar vest, Garcia on quick dial and the team right behind him. Alone with nothing but his wits was an entirely different level or something. But there were a number of quotes he could use here about chivalry and bravery and valor. Or, as Ethan once put it, the faint of heart ne'er fucked the fair maiden. "I have to. It might be my only chance to communicate."

She looked at him then, and he saw what had been growing in her eyes finally come into the light. It was respect and appreciation and love. There was so much love in her eyes. "Well then I am going to move the rocker in here and sit right there and wait for you." She told him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Once again he wanted to pull her in to his arms and kiss her, but he didn't dare. All he could do was smile. "That will help. Thank you."

Her eyes were shining, and her cheeks went red, but she just nodded. "You made me eat, now go wash the dishes."

* * *

><p><strong>Day 07<strong>

The next morning he was standing outside that door at 9:59, waiting for it to open. True to her word she had brought the rocker into that central hall, along with a table to hold her tea, the radio, and her knitting. "You never told me what you're making." He said. Suddenly he had to know.

"Socks," she replied. "Good thing you don't wear matching, they didn't get enough for any pairs."

"You're knitting me socks." Somehow that was the most astonishing thing.

"I prefer mine to match." She looked up at him, all calm bravery and love in her eyes. "I'll be right here Spencer."

"I know." The lock on the door clicked. It was time. He put his hand on the knob, but before he could turn it what was running in the back of his head broke through and came out. "There's something I want to say. I wanted to say it to Maeve but I couldn't before she died and I want to say it to you and I don't want to run out of time and I know she would want me to say it because it's true and..."

"Spencer." She cut through the torrent with that calm headmistress voice. "What is it?"

He had to say it. It might be too big, but it was too big to hold in anymore. "I love you."

It was big. For a moment it filled up the universe. And then her smile was as bright as the sun. "I love you too."

There it was then. No matter what happened they had that. "See you in six hours." He opened the door and walked through.

Stairs led down, lit at the tread. The rest of the room was dark. It had to be the original cellar, the walls were thick stone. And it was freezing. "Um, hello," he called out as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "I'm here." His eyes were adjusting to the light. He began to make out the huge object in the center of the room. "You said this was about..." All of a sudden he realized what it was, and a chill went down his spine. "...testing. I don't..."

Then the room swirled around him, and the blackness took him away.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-five**

**Day 15**

He told them

He had to tell them. There was at least one Unsub still out there. There were bodies that needed to be identified. Every profile built on the knowledge of the department, made finding the next one that much easier, saved lives in the future. After all the times they had insisted that victims who had been through so much worse tell every detail who was he, Spencer Reid, to demand special treatment.

But even telling the bare facts was one of the _hardest_ things he ever had to do.

He couldn't even look at them. He knew their eyes would be filled with nothing but compassion and kindness, that even though it had to go into the file that it wouldn't be discussed, that the details they knew had to be in the spaces in his recounting would never be spoken aloud, he still couldn't explain it all to their faces. By then he was pacing, too embarrassed to sit, so he ended up telling the window, and the view of the busy street outside. It was the only way he could get through this. And he didn't even tell them what he and Clara had in common, it wasn't germane to the case and it would have made this impossible.

When he was done the silence was broken only by the scratch of Dave's pencil on paper as he finished his notes. "Did he do the same to Clara the next day?" Was all he asked.

"Yes." Spencer replied. "Or so she told me. She didn't go downstairs voluntarily, but we blacked out again, at least I blacked out again. I was going to try to fight him but..."

"One of those ports was loaded with Propofol." Alex said. "He could sedate you for twenty minutes at a time from a remote location in the house. If an Unsub drugs you you can't do anything."

"I know." Let's add in this being the second time that happened. At least he wasn't walking away with an addiction this time.

"What happened next?" Dave asked.

"The Unsub left while I was still trying to help Clara recover. We heard the boat. We didn't make contact with him again until this afternoon. I made up a decoy so he would think I was still upstairs and ambushed him in the storeroom." Now that they had moved on he could turn back, look at them again. "When I saw that it was David Barnes I realized why it took so long. I only ever really discussed that with Emily."

"That and you keep everything hard copy." Dave said. "Do you have any idea how much paper is in your apartment?"

Spencer sagged. "With everyone and now Clara pushing me to get a tablet I think I probably will."

"Remind me to buy her flowers as a thank you."

"She said she likes carnations."

"And nothing happened in the second week?"

"Nothing germane to the case."

He was filling his water, so he never saw Dave give Alex one of those looks. "All right," Dave said. "I'll go tell Hotch we're done. Just so you know, part of this will go straight in the file."

Something Spencer was utterly grateful for. "Thank you."

"Uh huh." Dave stood up and gathered his papers. "You did well, Agent Reid. I don't think many could have done better."

Now that was just flattering. Spencer could feel his ears starting to burn. "Thank you."

After the door closed Alex smiled. "Nothing else happened in the second week." She said.

"Nothing germane to the case," Spencer repeated.

"Yeah, but something happened. And you are not the only one who can read body language; you are just bursting to talk about it. So off the record, and I will never tell Morgan or JJ, what happened?"

He did want to tell someone. Yes, what happened was horrible, but all wrapped up around it was the most amazing thing. But in order to tell her he'd have to explain...but it was Alex, someone who was almost a surrogate mother, who had been for years. If he could trust anyone... "I never told you about this problem..."

* * *

><p><strong>Day 07<strong>

When it was over he staggered up the stairs, crashing through the door and landing hard, shocked at the sudden brightness of the light. True to her word Clara was sitting there, waiting for him. Now she dropped her knitting and ran to him. "Don't!" He managed to get out, stopping her before she touched him.

"Spencer..."

Oh, there was such sweetness in her voice, so much love and concern. "I don't want you to get sick." He said, even as another round of shaking came over him. "I won't risk him punishing you."

"I don't care anymore." But she eased away, pulled the blanket off the rocker, and draped it over him. He pulled it around his shoulders as he sat up to look at her.

"I do." Given what happened he would not risk pissing off the Unsub with her in that position.

"What happened?" She asked as she passed him one of the insulated mugs they had found in the cupboard.

She'd made chicken soup, broth really. He sipped it greedily as he told her, the hot salt anchoring him back to reality. As he told her, her eyes got wider and wider. "But I'm all right."

"No you're not!"

"Okay, I'm a little sore." Maybe a lot sore. "But I'm not injured."

"Spencer. Look who you're talking to." She was quiet a long moment. "Have you ever done anything like that before?" She was flushing bright pink but she took a deep breath and carried on. "Been wi...you know what I mean."

"No." Not something he spoke of easily, but now it was important. This was starting to make sense. "Can't say I never found the right girl but she didn't want to risk it with me." Now he had to ask the question he was dreading. "You?"

"No." His heart sank. "I didn't want to risk it either."

Damn it, damn it, damn it! "I think this is the point where I'm suppose to say there's still time. Unfortunately at the moment I don't think I'm capable." If it hadn't been for the drugs they were giving him he likely would not have made it past the third round, even at his age. "I'm sorry. I would if I could though." Because she deserved it, damn it. And because he knew she would never hurt him, she would never leave.

He trusted her with that.

She looked at him for a long moment. When she spoke it was so quietly he could barely hear it above the sea. "You know, I've had to counsel kids through this kind of thing. I always tell them it's not about your body; it's about trust, trusting another with all you are. And no one can take that, it can only be given." She met his eyes and smiled. "I trust you Spencer. I'd accept."

Oh. Just like that one of the more horrific days of his life turned into one of the most magical. "We are going to get out of this." He said.

"And then you're coming back to my place." She finished. "You look like you have a crash on the way, love. You are shaking like a leaf."

"I know." He was shaking hard, was trying to keep the broth down if he could, was exhausted already but he knew he'd never find sleep. He could feel the blackness coming, this giant, cold pit that would swallow his soul. "I haven't felt my blood level this high before. He couldn't have found a better way to do it." And the higher you went the harder you fell when you inevitably fell.

"Think you can keep soup down?"

"Unfortunately no. Might try some cereal." He knew he hadn't eaten all day, he had to. Then he wanted a hot bath and his bed before he started crying and couldn't stop. At least he could have that comfort.

"I'll make a tray; we'll go upstairs and lock ourselves in again. Deal with tomorrow tomorrow." She almost reached a hand out for him as she got up but stopped. "Come on."

He got up and followed her. They made up a tray, collected what they needed, went up to their room and locked the door. He had his hot shower, managed the cereal, talked about nothing of consequence. But when they lay down he somehow found the darkness of sleep coming over him once more and he was grateful.

When he woke the door was open and she was gone.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

**Day 08**

"Clara?"

Spencer rolled out of bed, found his glasses and pulled the blanket back around him. He'd known it would happen, he wasn't really cold; it was the icy gray he had been expecting, the loss of focus, the loss of will. He'd crashed, not as hard as when Maeve died, but bad enough. He reached over to the other bed and pulled back the sheets.

No Clara

Rolling out bed was hard. Hell, breathing was hard. He ached everywhere, his head, his ribs, parts he didn't want to consider too closely. He got to his feet and shuffled off to the bathroom, but it was empty. "Clara?" He called out again. Maybe she was next door getting dressed.

No Clara.

Maybe she was in the kitchen. He shuffled downstairs, checked the kitchen, the gym, the sun porch.

No Clara.

Downstairs in the storeroom maybe?

Just as he went to check he heard it. He heard it. He heard the rhythmic buzzing of the MRI machine starting up in the basement.

His eyes flew to the clock over the stove. 10:30.

"No."

Before he could think he was at the door to the testing room. He hauled on it, twisted and turned the handle, but it didn't budge an inch. "No!"

Then he heard it

He felt it

He felt the machine in the basement start to thump, the magnets start to clash.

The scan start.

"NO!" Spencer lost it then. He howled out his anguish as he pounded on the floor, desperate for someone down there to hear him, to stop, to confront him, to do something, anything at all.

He didn't know how long he was like that but when he finally lost steam his knuckles were split open and there was a smear of blood on the floor. Okay, think. He had to think. He had to force past the grey fog in his head and think, damn it!

He couldn't get her out of there. What could he do? What could he do?

In the end he wrapped back up in his blanket, went to the door, and sat.

He sat, rocking gently, watching the door, letting the grey fog envelop him. As long as the machine throbbed beneath him there was nothing else he could do.

He sat and watched the door as the pure light crawled across the floor and the sun slowly set and felt the static buzzing behind his ears. What if something went wrong? What if she never came up? What then? Could he even live then?

When it was too dark to see he moved just enough to turn on light and then he sat.

At last the clock struck 6.

He held his breath.

One minute later the door burst open. She threw herself out of the chamber, landing on her hands and knees in front of him. He let out his first breath of relief.

She froze there, staring at the floor in front of her, eyes wide and unseeing, shaking.

His eyes were on her when he heard the squeak from the door. He turned just as the slender binder was pushed through and fell to the floor. Attacking the door would do nothing now. Instead he picked the binder up in numb hands.

_Stage 3 – Continued observation._

_Continue on as in Stage one. Testing will resume six days from today._

_Physical contact is now allowed._

She turned to watch him as he put the binder down and looked at her. There was only one thing he could do.

He opened his arms to her.

For a long moment she watched him, trembling. Then she threw herself into his embrace.

He held her tight as she started sobbing.

Decision made.


	27. Chapter 27

**Note: this chapter rated "M"**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-seven<strong>

**Day 15**

Alex was shocked. "How have you survived in this job?" She asked.

Spencer shrugged. "I've always been like this. I don't know how else to be."

"I didn't realize..." It looked like Alex was blinking back tears. "May I hug you?" She asked.

"Of course." He never turned down a hug from a friend, they always made him feel better. A moment later her arms were warm and tight around him. "I'm okay, I swear."

"I know." She stepped back but kept her hands on his shoulder. "I left the job, I know, but I have not left you. Boston is not that far away."

Huh. "Really?" That was unusual. When people left they were usually just _gone_, unless something almost magical happened.

"Yes, really. I expect you to keep in contact. Write if nothing else."

"You know I write Mom every day."

She considered that. "If you want to, but once a week is likely sufficient. Now, what are you doing for the holidays?"

"Ummm, I have no idea yet."

"Consider us as an option, for you and Clara. Oh, I am so glad you found someone. The conditions were horrible, but I am so glad. I expect an invitation."

"Of course." She sounded genuinely happy for him. There was no one else he could ask, so... "Do you think Maeve would be okay with this?"

"From what you've told me about her she would want you happy and healthy. I think if she knew you found someone who understood this she would be." For a moment she frowned. "Are you sure there's no way the Unsub could have known?"

"Absolutely." He replied. "Clara's test results are in her file but it's considered a minor issue. And Maeve ran my tests in her lab; they were never directly connected to me." He took a deep breath. "No, his interest was related, that other matter..."

"Which was cruel." She insisted. "I know it may be hard to believe but when you get there it will be completely different."

And with that Spencer felt the blood rushing to his face. "Ummm...I know."

"Oh!" Now it was Alex's turn to look a little embarrassed. "Then I am very glad you and Clara are happy together."

"Yeah." Just then there was a tap on the door. "Come in."

His smiled brightened as a familiar figure stepped in. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" Clara asked.

"Not at all, we were just finishing up." Alex gave his shoulders one more squeeze before turning to Clara. "I'm Alex Blake."

Pleasantries were exchanged before Alex stepped out to join the group. "How was it?" Spencer asked as he went and dropped onto the bed.

"Moderately horrible." Clara replied as she all but crawled into his lap and waiting arms. She sank against his chest with this little purring sound of pleasure. "I didn't go into detail about what happened after. Did you?"

This was what amazed him. The sensation of holding, of being held, was so very calming, soothing, even to the point of being luxurious. He would be quite content to just sit there holding her the rest of the day. Or the rest of his life. "No."

* * *

><p><strong>Day 08<strong>

He held her close as she sobbed out her shock at what happened. He didn't shush her at all, she needed to cry, to get that first wash of emotion out of her system. He just held her, warm and close, and let her tears soak through his shirt to his skin.

The hell of it was that he was feeling better.

He was still furious about what happened, furious and ashamed for no good reason but it was there. He was already embarrassed over telling the team, he would have to when they got back. And there was regret; something he could already tell would deepen over time. But that horrible grey sickness was going. It was burned off by the woman in his arms like the sun burning the morning fog away.

Eventually the tone of her sobs changed. He knew she was feeling the same thing, the grey fog that must have been coming over her was burning away, leaving the pure emotions and sensations in its wake. But it was taking time, it had to take time. It took long enough that they heard the engine of the boat as it left the island. "That son of a bitch!" She finally managed to sob out.

"Shhhh. I know."

She was still trembling in his arms, from anger or shock. Or perhaps from something else. She shook her head. "I didn't...I didn't give him what he wanted." She said as she sniffed. "I couldn't. He just kept going and I couldn't..."

"Shhh..." Wait, she didn't give the Unsub what he wanted. He left too quickly to have realized that. But when he reviewed the tapes and realized what happened..."He might come back to try again."

"No!" She pushed up, fire in her eyes. "No! He can't have that! He doesn't deserve it, the freak!"

"I agree." He would have done anything to spare her what had happened. He would do anything to spare her a second time.

She looked him in the eyes for a long moment. "I trust you." She said at last.

Then she leaned in and kissed him

It wasn't the best kiss, kind of awkward, almost too short. But he could feel the intent of it, the need coming off her now. He ran his fingers through her soft hair and pulled her back. "You're not hurt?"

"No. Please. I don't want him to have it. I want you to have it." She leaned in to kiss him again.

In the end he was only human. He was human and for the first time in years he felt healthy and good with her in his arms and he had to agree with her reasoning and was admittedly flattered by her choice. And he loved her. Above everything else he did love her. So when she leaned in again he pressed her close and kissed her the way he'd once been kissed in an LA swimming pool.

And it was magic.

Somehow, he had no clue how, they ended up back in the bedroom. She was tugging him down into the bed with her as he drowned in the richness of her kisses. "Wait." He managed to get out. "Are you sure about this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" She asked as she stretched out beside him in the quiet dimness.

"I could just be doing this to make you stay." He could make her stay with him, he knew that now. He could make it so it would be almost impossible for her to ever want to leave.

But the look that came into her eyes was not concern, not second thought. It was relief and joy. "Make me stay." She said, pressing herself back into his arms, back against him, pressing more kisses to his lips. "Make me stay. Please. Please."

She kept pleading with him in-between those sweet soft kisses. But he had to know. "Are you sure?" He asked once more.

In reply she stopped, looked at him and bit her lip. She sat up a little, pushed him back, and pulled her shirt over her head, leaving herself bare to the waist. "Make me stay."

Well, if she was going to _insist_.

He knew what to do now. He leaned over her as she tucked herself under him, kissed her swelling lips, her jaw, her neck just there where it was supposed to be good. As he kissed his way over her collarbone she plucked at his shirt, so he let her take that as well. Now her hands were on his skin as he kissed his way down her chest, leaving hot trails and waves of pleasure with every stroke. She could keep petting him he thought, she could pet him every day forever and he would only want more.

She wanted him to make her stay. She was begging him to make her stay. So he looked up at her, saw her confidence, took the silken tip of her breast in his mouth, and sucked.

Her reaction was instantaneous. Her fingers flew to his hair, to tighten and hold him there as her head fell back and her body arched off the bed. She let out this groan that ended in a cry as she shook under him. When she fell back to the bed and looked at him it was with hazy eyes filled with love and desire and something that might even be possession.

So he did it again.

He played there, going from one side to the other, savoring each sweet cry she made, the way she kept trying to press him closer, the way her legs wrapped around him and her body arched into his. He drove her as high as he thought he could before he reached for her waistband, shoved her pants down her legs and stroked his way up her thigh to find her heat. She was soaked, more ready than he had expected. "Please!" She managed to groan as she opened to his touch.

He fumbled out of his pants, kept kissing her as he settled between her legs and with her help found himself sinking in to her body. That alone was mind bending, that she was allowing him inside her like that. But then there was the sensation hot and grasping and pulling him in, tugging at him with the perfect friction."So good." She murmured in his ear as her legs went around his waist and her hips rose so she could savor the sensation.

After that he lost all ability to think, or any desire to do so. They settled into a rhythm, something driving that brought gasps and cries from her throat, something that was rapidly bringing him toward something entirely new, something that felt enormous and thrilling and he didn't want to stop, he didn't want to stop until he was there. Then all of a sudden her eyes met his as some wondrous realization came over her and she smiled. "Spencer!" She cried out before her nails bit into his back, she threw back her head as her body clamped down and she flew in his arms.

There, he thought, the Unsub did not get that. This is ours now. But then that big thing was there, right there. He felt it roll down his spine and drag him off into the universe as he groaned and spilled hot into her.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-eight**

**Day 08**

"They're probably going to question this." Spencer said.

The house was dark, lit only by the flickering light of that odd lamp. It was late, so late it might be morning. Spencer was lying in bed, utterly naked and unashamed, with Clara draped over him like the most heavenly blanket. He had never felt better in his lift.

Now, as he gently stroked down her spine, she rolled her head around to look at him. "Why?"

"Most rape victims don't even want to be touched, let alone have sex right after."

"Most rape victims don't have damaged heads." She replied. "Besides, that was about as far from what he did as is possible and still be on the same chunk of territory." She sighed. "I'm just afraid that if he comes back he will get hands on. I don't think I could bear that if we hadn't done this."

A thought occurred to him. "Does that mean you don't want to do this again?" He asked as fear curled into his belly.

She smiled at him. "Are you kidding? You're mine now Dr. Reid, I'm not going anywhere." That worried knot eased just that quickly. "In fact, given that I don't think we can just stay out here and have people ship us foodstuffs ever week..."

"Likely no. We do have a crime scene in the cellar."

"...then I was going to ask you to move in with me."

That was unexpected. Somehow they had gone from traveling companions to lovers to a Serious Couple that quickly. But he knew it was right, she was the only one who truly understood. "Sure you don't want to get our own place? I mean I have a lot of books."

"And I have a pre-war penthouse my Nana left me; five bedrooms, formal dining room, huge kitchen and a full on library which is mostly empty. Think your books will fit in my library?" She groaned. "Oh, that sounded so wrong."

He laughed. That sounded like heaven to him. Not the apartment, but knowing that no matter how hard the case was, how grim, how cold, how annoying people had to be to regain their sense of self after, he would always go home to someone who understood him, someone around whom he could feel this comfortable, this healthy, this good. To know that he would never be alone again. "I can't answer for the library without sounding horrible, but yes, I will move in with you. "

"Oh good," she sighed and rested her head over his heart. "But what will the FBI say? I can't imagine they won't say anything about this."

That was a problem. The FBI did have rules about associating with witnesses, especially in an ongoing case. "They'll probably say I can't see you again until the case closes and any trials are over." He admitted. After all, that's what happened with Austen and Lila.

She turned to look at him, fear in her eyes. "How long does that take?'

"Years. Sometimes decades."

She turned to look at him, fear in her eyes. "I don't think I could do that." She said. "Not now. I've always been afraid..."

He smiled and stroked her hair. "I have a standing offer to teach at Georgetown if they insist." He said.

"You shouldn't have to give up your career..."

"A wise woman once told me the work will always be there. I've saved the world a few times, now I just want to be happy." There wasn't anything he wanted more. "I want a family."

She turned rosy pink as the fear left her eyes. "You'll have one. It might take a few years and a little work."

"Work?"

"I'll have to adjust the medication I take; right now it's stopping that." That was good to know. "But we'll have one."

"We?"

"You're my family now." The moment she said it he knew it was true. No matter what else happened, no matter what they did. She ran her hand down his chest, stroking the space between them. "And this is home."

"Yes." He bent to kiss her, as the heat between them started to rise once more.

* * *

><p><strong>Day 11<strong>

Spencer stood at the window with his coffee mug and watched the sea. It had seemed like colors were richer now, sounds were clearer smells were sharper. The world had become a bright, sparkling place that filled him with excitement at the thought of living within it. But the world had not changed, he had. That constant anxiety, the low grade depression, the loneliness and longing that had dogged his days since he went to CalTech were gone. In its place had been calmness, confidence, a sense that his skin and his life beyond that fit now, were comfortable and safe and warm.

Had been. The effects were wearing off roughly 72 hours later, as he had expected

He could see it in Clara as well. It was in the way she moved, the way she spoke, the softness in her eyes and the way she sung to herself as she moved about the house. Yes, she had been a confident woman before now, professional and capable, but like him at heart she didn't believe it. She didn't trust it. It was a construct she used to keep the world at bay. Now she was comfortable in that world at last.

Had been. He had seen it wearing off in her as well.

Now she joined him with her own mug in hand. "He didn't come back." She said, noting the direction he was watching.

"No." Spencer replied, "Which has a few implications."

"Oh?"

"Either he got what he wanted, he put us through the experience he wanted to observe, or he thinks he got what he wanted, or he is watching those cameras remotely and realized he lost his chance."

"Which do you think it is?"

"I think it's the second option. I think we're dealing with an Unsub, or more than one Unsub, who is asexual. Not that being asexual is a bad thing but in this case it's driving his psychosis. He desperately needs to understand the human sexual response, so he brings people here and observes their reactions to stimulation."

"People. You mean more than us?"

"This is too practiced to be his first time. I'd be very surprised if we were his first victims. Anyway, the first option is unlikely because neither one of us gave him what he wanted. That would be what he would most want to observe, without it he should have come back to try again."

"You didn't?" She asked.

He shrugged as heat came to his cheeks again. "I have since learned that there is a difference between something mechanical and the real thing. The last is unlikely because without further chance to make that observation he wouldn't have any reason to keep us around." He lightly rubbed the lumps under his skin and gave her a reassuring smile as she shuddered. "I think we're safe for a while. So the remaining option is that he didn't realize we didn't complete. Given what he was doing it's unlikely any of his other victims completed either. He just thought they did so he's happy with his data."

"I can't say I'm complaining about that." Now it was her turn to go pink in the cheeks. "I am still complaining about the sleeping arrangements, just so you know."

He chuckled. After that one, memorable night he had insisted they move back into separate bedrooms, had put the big bed back in his, to make it clear to whoever might someday watch those videos that it was a one-off. It was something they did in the heat and fear of the moment, to help her and perhaps because he lost his head. But after his self control reasserted itself, and now the he knew that the Unsub would not sneak up on them he had insisted upon separate rooms so that would not happen again. "I know. Once we're safely back in DC we'll..."

The problem was that things were coming to pass exactly as Maeve had feared. One you start, she had said, you won't want to stop. You don't get the happy medium of other people, and going low is hell once you've been that high. He had been that high and now he wanted, needed, it back again. "Uh huh." She said. "I don't want to wait until we're back in DC, however long that takes."

"It really would be best if we weren't recorded though."

"Good thing there are no cameras in the garden and that copse of bushes is quite private."

"Really?"

* * *

><p>Thirty very enjoyable minutes later Spencer found himself lying on his back on a pile of pillows and quilts in the shade of a shadbush as Clara lowered herself carefully over him. Dear god her body was the most amazing thing, so hot and soft and yet so strong where she clutched and pulled at him as she settled herself. When she finally dropped all the way down she had this very satisfied smile and gave this hum of pleasure. "Enjoying yourself?" He gasped.<p>

"Very much so," she admitted. "You do feel very good." With that she started this slow, instinctive, almost rocking movement.

That was more flattering than he would have believed. He had just enough time to register that before her movements began to take his breath away. "Going to take your time then?"

"I don't see why not. I plan to enjoy this."

"Maybe I can help with that." He reached up and pulled the sides of her shirt apart, exposing her breasts to his gaze and his hands. It was the first time he'd had a good look at them and they were entirely perfect, round and full, silken soft with coral pink tips that tightened under his palms. She gasped and rocked harder in response. "Spencer!"

"Yes." That was better. Not only was she a pleasure to touch but there was something about her taking pleasure from this, something that made him feel strong. That and he firmly believed that she should find her way first, chivalry would allow nothing less. So he stroked her and savored every shiver, every sound that came from her throat, the needful, almost desperate expressions that crossed her face until he could stand it no longer. Only then did he reach down and stroke her at the place where they joined, finding that one small point. She cried out then, rocked against that invading finger, her cries growing every louder until the last one strangled in her throat and she almost seized over and around him. As she tightened around him he lost the ability to react, and think, and perhaps breathe until it was all over.

When she finally stopped, which took longer than he expected, she fell over him, like a warm and perfect blanket, and erupted into a fit of giggles. Hell, he couldn't stop the grin that was making his face ache. "That good?" She couldn't speak yet, she nodded against his chest. "I didn't think this would be this much fun." He admitted. "We have to keep doing this."

"Oh." She finally gasped out. "When we don't have to worry about anybody watching we are going to be doing this all the time. Might have to take some vacation time and just not get out of bed."

He thought about long week-ends in a pre-war penthouse where they were safe and didn't have to get out of bed. "Sounds good to me. Hey." He waited until she lifted her head to look at him. "I..."

"...love you." She finished before she stretched up to kiss him.

Yes, he thought. This is home.


	29. Chapter 29

**_Part 3 – Awareness_**

_What is necessary to change a person is to change his awareness of himself._

_- Abraham Maslow_

* * *

><p><em>.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-nine<strong>

**Day 15**

"So what have we got?" Dave asked.

"Three Unsubs." JJ said. "Barnes called them Trip and KC. Apparently they were fascinated by what they called 'untouched' minds. They were trying to see the changes when they did whatever they did with them. I think we'd need Reid to get through the scientific details in here."

"Untouched minds. Right."

"There were twenty-four victims all together." Morgan said. "Thing is, he refers to Reid and Clara as Subjects one and two, but they were the last two they brought in."

"The others were practice. They were leading up to the ones they really wanted."

"We need more points of comparison." Garcia said. She was sitting at the far end of the table with a stranger, a bald man of about Morgan's build with steel glasses and a neatly trimmed beard. He was in a polo shirt with the hospital logo on the chest.

"Have we met?" Dave asked, pointedly.

"Oh, this is Mat." Garcia said. The stranger smiled and nodded. "He's one of the admins for the charting program. The amount of data in here is kind of scary. We're working on the hunch that the Unsub had access to their medical charts through this system, going through who might have had access. But we need more victims to compare."

"Mat started here a month ago." JJ said quietly. "He hasn't been here long enough to be the Unsub."

"Love your books." Mtt said.

"Thanks." Dave replied.

By now the other interviewers had joined them. "Okay, so if Reid and Dr. Lee started this whole thing then the parameters are from the dates they met Barnes until now." Andi said.

"Right," Garcia nodded.

"Let's concentrate on the women. Log into gynecological records for that time frame."

"Okay...that's thousands. Literally."

"Assume he's looking at adults. Say over 20 for now."

"Still thousands."

"Look for women who requested an extra-small speculum for their annual exam."

"Okay, not going to ask..." Garcia watched Mat type it in. "Okay, that dropped us to a couple of hundred."

"Crosscheck those names with DC Metro and the military, see if any went missing."

Now it was Garcia's turn to type, "Which gives me...twelve names. Oh."

"Now look for men who went missing on the same day, plus or minus a day."

"And that's...another twelve." Garcia looked over at Mtt. "Anyone access all of these accounts?"

"Checking...yep, Dr. David Barnes, Dr. Howard Tice III, Dr. Ken Carrington. All neurologists."

"Trip and KC." Morgan said.

"Let's get them." Dave nodded.

* * *

><p>They went with other agents and DC Metro, just to keep everything clean given how close they were. At Dr. Tice's house it was easy. "I assume we're still in the clean up stage." Dave said as the looked over the body on the kitchen floor. "Dr. Tice I presume."<p>

"Looks like." One of the other agents said. "Killer put a bullet through the computer as well."

"We'll see what our tech can do."

* * *

><p>"No luck." Morgan said.<p>

Dr. Ken Carrington wasn't home, in a very permanent sort of way. "He's in the wind." Kate said. "He packed in a hurry. Hopefully he forgot something important."

"Hopefully."

* * *

><p>It was up to Hotch to tell Spencer and Clara that the threat was still out there. Problem was they'd already had a doozy of a day. He tapped on Spencer's door, and when he didn't hear anything opened the door and peeked. There was Spencer, lying back against the upraised head of the bed, his head back, snoring lightly. Clara was sitting between his legs, using his chest as a backrest, his arm around her, with a book open in front of her, looking like she was going to be nodding off soon as well. He caught her eye and motioned for her to follow him out into the hall. "We found the other two Unsubs." He said. "One is still out there."<p>

If anyone ever asked how Aaron Hotchner became so good at reading the minutest expressions he'd say he learned from his mother, and from his grandmothers, and from a number of aunts and cousins, of course. The women of the Tidewater families learned how to button up their emotions and present a strong, cultured face to the world a hundred and fifty years ago, and they had passed the trick down mother to daughter ever since. Now anyone else would think that Clara didn't bat an eye, her posture didn't change, or her color, or even her delicate smile, but he saw the shadow of fear come in to her eyes. "Spencer thought he...they had what they wanted."

"Temporarily, if they had everything they wanted they wouldn't have left you alive there."

He saw her consider this and see the truth in is. "Good point. So what happens now?"

"You're supposed to stay here until morning. Then you'll go home, and I'll arrange for guards 24/7 until this person is found. You might want to arrange for some time off work if you can."

"Of course."

He could tell from the faint furrowing of her brow that his words were not reassuring her. "It'll be all right." He said, as he pushed the memory of the one time it wasn't away. This Unsub was no Reaper. "We'll get him."

"I'm sure you will Aaron." She deepened that smile, gave him a well-trained look that was supposed to reassure him that she had every faith in his courage and valor and ability to take on the Army of the Potomac singlehanded. "If you will excuse me?"

"Of course." He gave her the polite nod that suited the situation as she turned and went back into the hospital room, moving as elegantly as if she was wearing hoops and not blue jeans. This was going to be interesting indeed.

Just then the team returned. "We got Tice's laptop for Baby Girl." Morgan said. "Hopefully she can do something with it."

"We didn't find anything at Carrington's." Kate said. "He was very careful to take all the evidence."

"Hopefully we can get something off the laptop that will tell us Carrington's next move." Hotch said. This was good; work was solid, familiar territory.

They discussed what they had found at the various homes for a few minutes more until Hotch became aware of movement behind him. He turned to see Clara approaching the nurse's station. "Pardon me." She said with that exquisite politeness that meant that something was deeply wrong. "Would you please get a message to Dr. Chu for me?"

"Sure." The nurse said.

"Tell her if she doesn't get her bony ass up here in the next ten minutes we're leaving without her. And you can quote me on that." Clara' smile was as sweet as candy.

"Uhhhh, of course."

"Thank you ever so." With that same sweep she turned to head back to the hospital room.

Uh oh. Hotch stepped up. Why did he feel like things were suddenly devolving rapidly? "Clara, we don't have security in place yet. It would be better if you stayed the night."

She turned to him with a smile that was utterly sparkling. "Oh Aaron, I know we're blood and all but we did just meet. Now unless you're planning on arresting me you can't keep me anywhere. We'll do exactly what you want in the morning but for tonight we are going home."

He took a deep breath. He'd been away from home for so long he'd forgotten. "I just want to keep you safe."

"I know, and I do appreciate your concern."

"You need to stay."

Her smiled grew even brighter. "Bless your heart, Aaron. I'll say good-bye before we go."

He winced. By the time he recovered the door was closing behind her.

"We?" Dave asked.

This could not be good.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>More reviews get faster updates. Please.<p> 


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

**Day 15**

Hotch nodded Dave into Spencer's room. He didn't have to look to know that Morgan would likely follow. And he followed Clara. He stopped at a polite distance, giving her space but watching her closely. "What's going on?" He asked quietly but firmly. "Before we spoke you appeared to be happy with the arrangements."

"It's...nothing, Aaron." Her movements were too jerky and too quick, and that calm, pleasant façade was starting to break on her. She bustled about the room, packing her bag. "I'm going home, that's all. We can discuss it all in the morning."

"It's not safe."

"I'll be sure to keep the door locked. Pardon me." She stepped past him to get her things from the bathroom. Once in there he saw her catch herself on the vanity, her knuckles going white.

Damn it! "Clara, let me help. Please."

The eyes that met his in the mirror were terrified. "I'm fine Aaron." She repeated.

"No you're not."

"I will be." She quickly gathered her things and went back to packing.

"You don't have to deal with this alone anymore." Whatever it was he wanted to help.

"You wouldn't understand."

"So something is going on."

She finished and yanked her bag closed. "I'm going home." She said once more before she walked past him and out the door.

Hotch followed her and watched her head into Reid's room as Dave came out. "At least he's a little more rational." He said.

"So he doesn't want to change the arrangements?"

"No, he does. He said she's concerned and wants to go and he's going with her. But if Morgan wants to come along as security that's all right."

Hotch sighed. "This whole thing started when I told her the Unsub was still out there and we were going to put them under protection. Why would that set them off?"

"I have no idea."

They went into Spencer's room to find him packing, her pacing, and Morgan hanging back, trying to understand this. "Reid..." Hotch started.

"I know." The younger agent was calm, but there was something lurking in his eyes as well. "I think after a good night's sleep at home we'll be better able to deal with this moving forward."

'We don't have security in place."

Spencer flashed a smile. "Given the number of times I've done Morgan's paperwork he kind of owes me." The smile didn't last but at least he was still calm. "If a hotel or a safe house would work better we could probably go there."

"Home," Clara insisted.

"And if I ordered you to stay here?" Hotch asked. He had no plans to do so, but he wanted to see Spencer's reaction.

What he got was predictable. He'd seen that flash of irrational anger before. He knew instinctively that if he pushed too hard at that moment he'd end up with the younger agent's badge on his desk, that at that moment it was better to help then hinder.

Before either of them could say anything more Kim Chu pushed in, with Savannah right on her heels. "Out!" She ordered them.

"Dr. Chu..." Hotch started.

"Don't make me call security."

"Wait a minute..." Morgan said.

"Derek." Savannah spoke up. "Just give us a few."

They all took a collective deep breath and left the room. "What the hell is going on?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know." Hotch replied. "I told her she needed to be under security and it triggered this."

"At least Reid is being somewhat more rational about it." Dave said.

"At least."

A few minutes later the two doctors came out. Kim headed to the nurse's station while Savannah came over their way. "We can get them to stay." She said.

"What happened?" Morgan asked. "And please don't say you can't talk about it. That almost got the whole Bureau worked up."

Savannah took a deep breath. "Okay, most people naturally keep their hormone levels within a very close range. Some people don't, for lots of different reasons, they make too much or too little or swing back and forth by too great a range. "

"We know Clara is diabetic, and she has pituitary problems." Dave said. "Does that have something to do with this?"

Savannah nodded with a grateful smile. "Hormones affect emotions and emotions can affect hormone levels. With all of this stress she's out of balance and now she's starting to act irrational in response."

"What triggered it?" Morgan asked. "She was fine until a few minutes ago. We don't want a repeat of this."

Savanna considered a little. "What's Bureau policy on letting an agent and a witness stay together?"

"Ahhh." Dave nodded.

"Normally it's against policy." Hotch said. "But given the work our unit does we have some leeway."

"You might want to clarify that." She said.

"We will." Hotch said. He should have said something at the beginning, made it clear that he meant to secure both of them in Clara's apartment, and would overlook the sleeping arrangements. Hopefully no long term harm was done. "You said you can get her to stay tonight?"

"Kim is ordering some medication for her. Unfortunately there isn't a maintenance form of it, but what we have will help her calm down enough to get some sleep. Hopefully by morning you'll have all the details worked out and she'll be able to control it going forward. Just give her some space until the meds get here."

"Given that we already know she has issues can you give us any pointers on what to look for if she's having problems?" Dave asked. "That way we can get her help if she needs it."

"Sure." Savannah said. "I'll check with Kim and get you those notes."

"Thank you." They waited until Savannah left and then Dave turned to Hotch. "And you thought being a big brother would be easy."

"She's been through a lot. It's understandable that it would affect her health." Hotch replied.

Just then Kate drifted over. "Is everything okay?" She asked.

"Juliette thought she and Romeo were going to be split up." Morgan said. "It knocked her hormones out of kilter. They think she's going to be fine."

"Clara?"

"Yeah."

"Then why did Dr. Chu just order two separate doses?"


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-one**

**Day 15**

"You know, Doctor Chu was running all kinds of blood tests on Reid." Morgan said, his suspicious nature coming back. "I asked Savannah about it, she said she couldn't tell me."

"She can't." Hotch said. "Disclosing patient information is a Federal crime."

"But if it's in his medical record it's automatically part of his personnel record as well." Dave said. "You could insist."

Hotch sighed. "I don't want to make it official until I have to. I don't want to hamper communication like that."

"Unfortunately as senior agent I'd be stuck making it official too." Dave said. He looked at Morgan. "No teasing this time."

Morgan shook his head. "Not about this. I wouldn't go there." Medical stuff was serious. Hotch and Dave wandered off to see to the security arrangements, or whatever it was. For now Morgan waited, he had to time this just right. He waited until he saw something get delivered through the tube system and while Dr. Kim gathered together what she needed and he waited while she went in the room. She was the kind who would hit up her boo first so he gave it three and a half minutes and then followed her in.

His timing was good. He walked in just as Dr. Kim was filling the second needle. "This should last about three hours." She was saying. "The most common side effect is abdominal cramps, but they shouldn't be bad."

"This really isn't necessary." He said. "I feel fine."

"Sure about that?" She asked. Spencer sighed and slumped and started rolling up his sleeve. "Three hours. If you don't make it into bed by the time this wears off I'm leaving orders for you to get another one."

"That's really not..."

"You could both use a good night's sleep tonight, and with half the FBI camped out in the hallway you're not getting it the old fashioned way." With that she stuck the needle home, making Spencer wince as it went in. "Three hours. Don't make the nurses come hunt you down; you'd just have to explain it to Nosy Pete out there."

"You mean Nosy Pete in here." Morgan said.

The three of them turned to look at him. "Oh you son of a bitch!" Dr. Kim exploded. "That's it! I'm calling security and..."

"It's all right." Spencer stopped her. "I'll talk to him."

It was clear Dr. Kim didn't like it. She huffed but she packed up her gear. "Fine. I have you scheduled for an MRI in the morning."

Spencer groaned at that. "You really don't need to do that."

"Just to be on the safe side."

"I had that checked a few years ago..."

"By Barnes?" She nodded as he put two and two together. "Better safe. Tomorrow, 9am. Once it's read you can go." She turned to Clara. "I'm staying in the Doctor's Lounge tonight. You need me, call."

"You don't need to do that." It looked like Clara had already calmed down. "Not that I'm not grateful."

"Yes I do." Yeah, those two were tight. "Don't wait dinner for me, I'm still on shift. See you later." Dr. Kim glared at him as he walked out.

Now it was Clara's turn. "If you're all right love, I'm going to go apologize to Aaron..."

"Sure." They traded the smiles of two deeply in love and she stepped out.

Finally. "You want to tell me what's going on?" Morgan asked, or rather demanded.

"Um, not really," Spencer replied. "I'm fine, I really am."

"Come on pretty boy." Morgan said. "I know I've been a jerk lately and I'm sorry. I'm working on it, I promise. Now talk to me."

Whatever the doc just gave him it seemed to be kicking in. He seemed to be getting calmer but at the same time more confident. That fragile look was leaving his eyes, being replaced with a strength he hadn't seen in too long. He nodded for Morgan to kinda sit somewhere. "Okay, remember when we had that case in Portland, right after Emily died?"

"Yeah, we suspected the Unsub was schizophrenic..." Wait a minute. "Reid, you are not showing any symptoms of that."

"No, I'm not. I didn't inherit the genetic anomaly for it either. I don't have to worry about that anymore."

"How do you know that?"

"Maeve. I started corresponding with her after that case. She ran some tests in her lab and was able to prove conclusively that I didn't inherit that gene." He gave a shy kind of smile. "Did inherit the gene for a related form of autism..."

"We guessed that." Hell, anyone with half a brain would have pegged Reid for an Aspie. They'd gotten used to that years ago.

"Recent science has found another genetic anomaly that goes along with it. It, um, causes some hormonal fluctuations." He held up his hand to derail any speculation. "I'm fine, I swear, I've had it all my life. I've just been finding that the better I take care of myself the better I can keep it under control and the better I feel."

Oh hell. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I didn't want to be teased about it. I didn't want to be treated like a baby."

"We wouldn't do that!" He got one of those looks. "Okay, maybe we would have. But we won't. At least we'll try not to."

"Thank you. I really can handle this."

"I know. But what about this?" Morgan gestured to where Spencer had been shot in the shoulder.

Spencer looked and sighed. "It's been a long week." He said. "Clara has the same problem. In her case it's not genetic..."

"Pituitary damage?"

"Yeah. Maeve helped me figure out how to manage it but Clara is seriously into that sort of thing so we were able to make it through but we're both really tired and..."

"And tired and stressed out makes it harder to control. I get that. Now I know for Diabetics not eating or eating too much sugar can make things go way out of whack, anything in particular affect this?"

Spencer thought a moment before he answered. "People I love leaving."

"Okay." Morgan thought a moment. "Emily. That's why you were so sick after."

"Yeah, let's try to avoid anyone on the team dying if we can."

"I can get with that. Can you take anything for it?"

"No." Spencer looked frustrated. "So far the longest acting formula they have is three hours and it's an intramuscular injection. That doesn't really work for day-to-day use. I mean, for emergencies..."

"Define emergency."

"Being shot again."

"Yeah, let's not make a habit of that either."

"I should draw up a protocol. It's not common, but they carry the medication for it in every hospital for a different use." Spencer rubbed his neck as he thought. "It really doesn't affect me in the field that much. I should be fine, but just in case."

"Yeah. Why didn't you do that when you found out?"

"I was hoping if I started taking care of myself it would resolve. But this week has proven otherwise."

"Yeah, well, now that we know we can deal. And I'm not going to tease you about it, I swear." Morgan said.

Spencer looked at him straight, "Or about Clara. That's too important."

"Not about Clara." That was fair; don't tease him about his health or his lady. "Dr. Who though..."

Spencer's eyes flashed with humor. "I don't know why you have this thing about Dr. Who!" He said. But he was smiling.

There we go, Morgan thought as he clapped his friend on the shoulder and laughed, "'Cause it just makes you a bigger nerd. Now she said three hours. I assume dinner needs to happen in there?"

"Yeah. And then bed."

Morgan grinned, "Sounds good to me."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-two**

**Day 15**

Hotch was utterly relieved when Clara came out and found him. "I owe you an apology." She said right off. "I'm sorry I said those things, I just completely lost my head."

"It's all right." It was. Sometimes they had to remind themselves that dealing with Unsubs was not an everyday occurrence for most people. She had been through an extraordinary event over the past two weeks. He'd expect a healthy person to come out the worse for wear. And while there was every indication his sister was quite responsible and took very good care of herself, she did have a chronic illness which was bound to be affected. But with the proper care all would be well. "Although I haven't had someone bless my heart in a long time." As he recalled it was Haley sometime mid-divorce, in fact.

To her credit she immediately turned pink to the hairline. "You're not going to hold that against me, are you?"

"Of course not, I'm teasing. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you. I'm just not used to this..."

"It's understandable. If I may what did Dr. Chu say about the rest of the night?"

Clara rubbed her shoulder. "She said I have about three hours to get supper, then I get another shot and I should be in bed. I ought to be at least stable by morning."

"And I assume you're staying here?"

She laughed a little, "Of course."

"Just to clarify, when I said we were putting you both under guard I did mean back at your apartment. Both of you."

"Oh." That brought a relieved look to her face. "I thought, though, that with a pending case..."

"I'm not worried about it. There's ample evidence and given the work we do this unit has some leeway. Although..." Now there was something he was concerned about. "If you've been relying on him for medical help we do travel quite a lot."

"Oh, he told me. That's not a problem; I have been on my own for a long time you know. But it doesn't sound like you go for more than a few weeks..."

"No, usually we plan for three to four days."

"...which is not the same as however long it takes to exhaust all the appeals."

"Which could be a decade." Which would mean ending the relationship. "So long as you're all right alone. Which is not just you, I worry about everyone's family."

"I'll be fine, I always have been. It's just this week..."

"I understand. You said dinner; we were just about to head down to the cafeteria. Your presence will give us an excuse to discuss something other than work."

"I'd love to." Clara said. "Although I likely should check with the nurse before I go."

"All right." Just then Spencer and Morgan came out to join them. Morgan gave him the high sign that everything was good as Spencer went straight to Clara and she stepped into his arms, "Dinner?"

"Please." Morgan said. Spencer nodded enthusiastically.

"Are you going to have just dessert on me?" Clara asked Spencer.

"Depends on if they have Jell-o," he replied with a smile.

"I'm going to ignore that." She replied. "I'm going to go clear it with the nurse. Come with?"

"All right."

* * *

><p>After a very pleasant family dinner, marred only by hospital food, they all retreated upstairs. Andi took off with many thanks from everyone. And Alex had to head back to Boston. "Now I am not dropping out of your life forever." She told Spencer very clearly. "I will keep in touch regularly and I expect you to do the same. And I want to see you sometime in December. Both of you."<p>

Spencer smiled. It did feel good to unlose someone. Or it might still be the lingering effects of the shot. Either way, he was not complaining. "I will, I promise...um..."

"What?"

"I keep thinking I should call you Mom or something."

"Silly. You have a mother, she adores you."

He considered this a moment. "Yeah, but Aunt Ethel and I never did get along." He pretended to think about it a moment more. "Have a safe trip Aunt Alex." He teased.

"Adopted aunt, I like that." She said with a smile. "Take care." With one last hug she was off.

"I'm trying to decide." Clara said as he wandered back to her side. "Should I join you all or should I go stick my nose in a book?"

"Not sure." He took her hand and tugged her out of traffic and into his arms. It still amazed him; it felt so good just to hold someone. "As much as I would love the company you might hear some very upsetting things in there."

"Book it is then. Movie date for tomorrow night though? I have a very comfortable sofa."

Sofa. Movie. Cuddling. Prelude to what would come after. "Deal." He had to kiss her, he could always kiss her, but he kept it politely brief for being in public view. "I'll come say good night."

"You better." With one last stroke down his arm she retreated to her room.

Every cell in his body wanted to follow her in there, wanted to lock the door and make the world rich for both of them once more despite the lingering effects of the shot. But that would not do so instead he retreated to the conference room. "Can I join you guys?" He asked Hotch after knocking on the frame.

"As long as you don't touch the evidence," he replied.

There was a love seat sort of thing against the wall. Spencer went and perched there, well away from the evidence on the table. "Anything new?"

"We've determined they're a pack." Dave said.

"Really?" Now that was interesting. Why was a pack hunting him?

"Ken Carrington was the leader. According to what we were able to recover from Tice's computer and Barnes' notes he's been at this for a while. He has a distinct paraphilia; he likes to watch the pattern in women's brains as they experience sexual activity. He inherited his fortune and the house, the lab in the cellar was his. Tice was the lieutenant and Barnes was the newbie."

"Usually that would mean that Tice and Barnes came from a broken home, but they're too old to fit the pattern."

"Divorce. In both cases due to their wives cheating on them. In Tice's case he lost custody of his children as well. They wanted to know what they did wrong so Carrington shared his video collection with them." Dave shook his head. "No, I don't know how to get from one to the other either."

"How many people has he taken over the years?" Spencer asked.

"Twenty-seven total, in twelve pairs and three individual." Hotch replied. "Before his current string he hired prostitutes from all over the area, DC, Baltimore, Richmond and anywhere else he could. But he didn't kill them."

"No. He likely figured that he could buy their silence." Kate said. "And in the end he was just a john with a kind of a strange fetish, but no one got hurt so likely he could."

"Thing was both Tice and Barnes' wives were..." Morgan started.

Oh hell. Spencer took a deep breath and got it over with, "Virgins." Yep, after this case he was not going to be embarrassed by anything ever again.

"...virgins when they married and they wanted to see if maybe they had done something wrong there and that's why their marriages went south."

"Which leads me to believe that those were two very unsatisfied wives," JJ said.

"But women with no experience wouldn't volunteer to go to Carrington's lab." Hotch said. "So they used their ability to access medical records to find victims and, over time, refined their technique."

"Barnes didn't know that Carrington was killing the victims after they were done with them." Rossi said. "Tice might have known but it sounds like he was overlooking it in order to get to what he wanted to learn."

"But why did they suddenly add men to the mix." JJ said. "I mean even though Carrington never married and has no indication of ever having been in a relationship there's every indication that he was straight."

The room was quiet for a moment. Spencer considered the timeline, and then made his peace with it. Based on that there could only be one answer. "Maeve did say that I gave amazing MRI..."

Thankfully they all laughed enough to break the tension. "This is not your fault." Hotch pointed out.

"It's not." Spencer agreed. Maybe it was still the lingering effects of the shot, but he was able to look at this clearly. "I just wanted to find the reason behind my headaches. Although at the time I did think his intake materials were a little intrusive, but he said..." Oh. Now all of a sudden it hit him.

"What?" Morgan asked.

"Barnes said he was working on a research project. In the intake packet was a release form allowing him to use and publish scans for research purposes." Spencer shook his head. "It was a boilerplate form, I didn't think..."

"You didn't think it would be feeding in to his delusion." Dave said.

"It's not your fault Spence." JJ said. "You were sick. And you weren't even thinking Unsub."

"Still." It wasn't his fault, but he was very glad it was over. Except... "You said he had a paraphilia?"

"Yeah, he liked watching the women." Dave said. "According to Tice, Carrington only wanted to see the last video of the women; he didn't care about the first or at all about the men. Tice did not understand that."

"And Carrington's on the run?"

Hotch nodded. "It looks like Tice killed Barnes and tried to kill you and Clara to cover up the crime and get back into Carrington's good graces. It's likely that Carrington killed Tice."

Oh he wished he didn't have to tell them this. "Carrington never got what he wanted from Clara."

Spencer saw worry and anger flash across Hotch's well-schooled face, "Which means he'll be back."


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-three**

**Day 16**

The next morning Hotch was a little late to the hospital. He'd scheduled Jack's Parent-Teacher Conference weeks ago, tentatively. At the moment Clara and Reid were safe, there was no guarantee of that safety once they left the hospital, so he figured he should get the meeting out of the way.

When he got there at 10 Dave was there waiting for him. "What did I miss?" Hotch asked.

"Do you want the official or the unofficial version?" Dave replied.

That was never a good reply. "Let's start with the official."

"Officially Reid was diagnosed with a minor hormone imbalance. We don't have the official word yet on the cause, they're running an MRI now to be sure. Morgan is down there with him. Other than that, Clara's chronic issues and the port removal they're both in good health."

"Will it keep him out of the field?"

"Officially we don't know yet."

Great. Hotch tried not to groan, "Unofficially?"

"Unofficially Maeve Donovan diagnosed it as a genetic issue a few years back. Apparently it's not uncommon among those with a predisposition to schizophrenia and autism."

"Which means he's been able to perform in the field without issue." This was just an exercise in getting the paperwork straight.

"Exactly."

Just then Clara opened her door. "Good morning Aaron." She said a pleasant note in her voice.

"Good morning. How are you this morning?"

"Ready to go home. We're waiting on Spencer though. I spoke to the school; I'm taking at least two weeks off although they'll want to stay in contact if we can."

"We can arrange it."

"Good. Thankfully I have all sorts of sick leave on the books."

"Good." That would make it easy.

They waited and chatted easily. Eventually Spencer and Morgan returned, with Spencer grumping about having to be in a wheelchair by policy. And then they waited another hour until the scan was read. Eventually Kim and Savannah returned. "I, um, have to go in with Reid..." Hotch said to Clara.

"I know." She replied with a smile. "I've been looking after my own health since I was thirteen, I'll be fine."

"All right." Hotch moved to join Morgan in Spencer's room while Dave, Kate and JJ went to check on security before they moved.

"...doesn't have its own formal diagnosis." Savannah was saying. "In men it's usually under the umbrella of a diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder of some kind."

"That's already in my file." Spencer said.

"Right. Okay, officially." Savannah looked over at the other two men. "There's no reason why this should keep him out of the field. It shouldn't affect day to day function at all. But we want you to wear one of these." She was unpacking a black cuff. Hotch caught sight of a small, red medical alert star on it. "It's got a contact number and a QR code on the inside. If you're injured in the field _again_ it will give the ER the treatment protocol. You," she looked at Morgan. "If anything happens make sure the paramedics see it. They'll take it from there. Now in case of major emotional shock..."

"I'll be fine." Spencer said.

Savannah ignored him and kept looking at Morgan. "Send someone home with him. Keep an eye on him for at least seventy-two hours. If he stops eating and sleeping completely bring him back in."

"I'll be fine!" Spencer insisted. "I was fine after Maeve died!"

"How much weight did you lose before you went back into the field?" Savannah asked.

"Ummm...I don't know. Ten pounds maybe."

"In two weeks?" Morgan shook his head. "Send someone home with him. Got it. Anything else?"

"Ummm..." Savannah checked her notes. "Okay, it's highly unlikely but if he starts complaining about being lightheaded or dizzy or pain in his arm or shoulder that comes out of nowhere or if he faints on you, call 911."

Uh oh. "That sounds more than minor." Hotch said.

"It's a distant possibility, but since it's happened once before..."

"When?" Morgan asked.

"Hankle." Spencer replied.

"Right." Hotch nodded. Gideon had said something about that. "That won't happen again. Anything else?"

"Not for that. As for the port removal, home for two weeks. No heavy lifting for two weeks. No discharging your weapon for four weeks. If that means desk duty then you get desk duty. Come back to be cleared for full return."

"But I'm fine!"

"You had three holes poked in your subclavian vein. Let. It. Heal." Savannah shook her head and with a smile. "Will you need paperwork?"

"Please." Hotch said.

"No problem. Pick it up at the desk in ten minutes. Now get out of my hospital." She said to Spencer with a smile. "You, I get off at eight." She said to Morgan.

"I will remember that." Morgan said with a grin.

After Savannah left Spencer turned back to Hotch. Whatever they had given him the night before had worn off; he was back to his usual slightly anxious energy. Hotch watched him take a deep breath. "So what's the official word?"

"Officially, you return to desk duty in two weeks, full duty as soon as a doctor, an MD, signs off on your paperwork, and you keep that on at all times at work. No excuses. Unofficially why didn't you say anything?" As he had told Clara they lived in each other's pockets.

Spencer looked a little chagrined. "I thought with Maeve's help I could clear it up myself. I was doing a lot better too, and then..."

"I understand." And then. Hotch knew exactly how the world could shift when the person you loved died suddenly and horribly. Hell, if it hadn't been for Jack he might have been the one sitting in a cold and empty room slowly wasting away. Well, they wouldn't let it happen again. "We'll be more careful in the future. And I am sorry about what happened with Emily." It still would have happened that way, they needed to cover for Emily to keep her safe, but if he had known he would have cushioned the blow for Reid more.

"I understand. Thank you."

As Hotch stepped back Morgan turned to Spencer. "Let's get out of here. Do not lift that." Morgan grabbed Spencer's go bag. "You heard the doctor."

"I really am fine, I swear!"

"And if something happens I have to sleep next to her. Go."

Hotch trailed them out, inwardly smiling as that relationship also seemed to be mending. But luggage...he took a detour and tapped on Clara's door. When she answered he stuck his head around. "Not allowed to lift?"

"It's ridiculous." She said with a sigh. "How am I supposed to even get home? And I need to stop for groceries I'm sure and..."

Without a word he picked up her bag. "We'll stop on the way back to your place. I'll get the bags. Do not argue." He said firmly. "I wasn't there to help before, at least let me now."

She looked like she was going to argue anyway, but she gave it up with a sigh. "All right, if you don't mind."

"Not at all." He'd be able to protect her through a short trip to a very public market, surely. "Are you ready?"

"Of course." She let him get the door for her, and once again he swore he could hear the swish of a crinoline. "I just can't believe she's not letting me train for another two weeks."

"Train?"

"I'm trying for the Backroads Century ride next year. I was going to try the family this year to get a feel for it but I was stuck on an island."

"A century?" Oh, now he had been considering doing a century. "I've thought about taking on another challenge."

"Spencer said you did a triathlon a couple of years back."

"Olympic length, but yeah."

Her smile was growing. "So you're saying this sort of thing runs in the family?"

"Maybe." He might not just have a sister here; he might have a workout partner.

They met up with Spencer and Morgan at the desk. He was glad to see Clara's hand go right into Spencer's like it belonged there. "...and no narcotics." Spencer was saying.

"Are you allergic?" The tech asked.

"No. Personal preference."

"I'm getting him up on a bike." Clara said quietly.

Spencer Reid on a bicycle. "I'd pay money to see that." Hotch peeked and saw that they were updating the page that must go with that bracelet.

"Okay, got the protocol Dr. Chu put on here, allergy to carboxypenicillins, and no narcotics. Emergency contact information for one Aaron Hotchner. Anything else?" The tech asked.

"No, that's it. Thank you." Once Spencer had that cuff securely back on they headed for the elevator.

Only to meet JJ and Kate coming back; JJ looked grim. "We have a problem."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-four**

**Day 16**

"We can't figure out where the sewage came from." The other agent said.

Hotch had yet to figure out his name. He was sure he had been introduced but it was hard to hear in a biohazard suit. And he hadn't been paying attention. He'd been too distracted by the sight that had greeted him in Clara's apartment.

It had been destroyed.

They knew security was bad, as evidenced by the cameras the Unsub had planted in here. Apparently the management had done nothing since that revelation. Somehow Carrington had broken in and destroyed the place. Utterly destroyed it.

He'd gone on a rampage to start. Furniture had been overturned, books and items scattered, upholstery torn open and the stuffing scattered. Pictures had been literally ripped in pieces. Clothing had been torn and tossed everywhere. And everything breakable had been broken.

Everything.

Hotch stared at the remains of the sideboard. A rainbow of shattered china was scattered on the floor under and around it. The average class at Foxwood graduated sixty young women, there had been at least that many china cups in there, each one with a memory of kindness and caring and support attached. Not a one had survived.

But that had just been the beginning.

Once the place was overturned he had gone through with spray paint, of the most noxious kind that would eat through multiple coats of paint. Bitch was the kindest epitaph he had written upon the walls and floor. But of more concern were the threats. They were specific and detailed in a way that meant that they were real. He really intended to have his revenge on her in the most cruel and horrific way possible. As he stood in front of one Hotch flashed back to the sound of a gunshot in his ear, the sight of a body on the floor. That could not happen again.

When he was done painting Carrington had emptied the fridge and freezer and scattered the food and drinks around the house, milk here, chicken there, produce everywhere. He had opened the plumbing and stopped up the drains, knowing that the floors were solid enough to keep leaks from showing through for quite a time. And he had somehow acquired manure or sewage or something and added it to the mix. It wasn't the first time Hotch had seen someone do something like that, some dim part of him that remained cool, thought that he should educate the younger agent on the difference between stopped up drains and someone flinging it around by hand.

Then Carrington shut all the windows and vents, turned up the heat, and closed the door.

The entire unit was now a biohazard zone. All the fine old plasterwork was falling off; the oak floors were split and curling, the cupboard doors warping on their frames. They were going to have to have a special team clear it out and then gut it to the studs. It was a total loss.

Hotch remembered his father being furious when he found out that the penthouse had been left to some unknown someone else upon Nana's death, someone protected by layers of shell corporations and lawyers. He remembered his father storming out one night, coming back with boxes of photo albums and special books recovered from this place before the keys were turned over. He'd been upset that he couldn't share those with Clara, but at least they were safe and he might even see them again someday.

Now he just had to figure out what to do next.

He made it out through the warm zone, got out of the biohazard suit, cleaned up, and met up with Dave in the lobby. "They've offered to buy her out." He said.

"That would prevent a lawsuit, given that their security was not what they promised." Hotch replied. "Are they offering market value?"

"From before the damage."

"I'm going to suggest she take it, and move to a more secure building once this case is over."

"What are you going do with her now?"

Hotch sighed and considered the direct threats written upon the walls up there. Carrington knew where she lived, knew her habits, likely he'd had her under surveillance for some time. As well as Reid, and through him, the rest of the team. He would know where they all lived, where they frequented...

He only had one choice.

* * *

><p>Clara took the news with the cool, formal calm he'd expect of a woman of the Tidewater. With no place else to go they'd gone back to the office. He'd made a few calls, taken her to the conference room and explained what had to happen. "And this is the only option?" She asked when he laid it all out for her.<p>

"It's the best option." He said as he stuffed down the panic rising in his throat. "It's the only way we can guarantee your safety."

"For how long?"

"A few days. Maybe a week." Carrington was no Foyet after all. He was a neurologist with an itch, not a criminal mastermind. "You should be back in the city before you have to return to work."

"A week isn't that bad."

"I'll take care of the management company for you if you like." What was he saying? "Granted you don't really know me from Adam..."

"No, but Nana's lawyers know both of us." She managed a ghost of a smile, but there was fear in her eyes still. "They still handle all my business for me."

He was familiar with the firm, knew a couple of the guys there on a social level. "We'll take care of it then."

"All right," she nodded, the fear growing in her eyes despite her composure. "They have very specific rules, don't they?"

"They do. But it's for your protection. They'll expect you to change your appearance, your habits. You won't be allowed to contact anyone while you're away either."

"Any contact?"

"Yes." Her composure finally broke. She flinched and turned away. "I'm sorry, it's..."

"For my protection. Yes, I know." She managed just the right note of gratitude. That was the hell of it. "Will you give us a few?"

Us. That's what this was. "Of course." With that he stepped out, and pretended not to notice when Spencer slipped in after him.

* * *

><p>"Is there any other option?" Clara asked.<p>

Spencer sighed and shook his head. Even now she was so beautiful. "Not any good ones." He admitted. "We just don't have any place to keep you safe here. You need to be completely hidden away until we get him."

"You will get him though? And soon?"

Spencer nodded. He alone knew why she was asking. Soon was so very important, she couldn't be gone that long. She just couldn't. "I won't stop. I promise."

"I know." She had her arms wrapped around her middle, was holding herself as he should have been holding her. "Maybe we can offer him a deal." She said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "He gets what he wants two days a week so long as we can head back out there and have the other five to ourselves."

A sound that was almost like a chuckle came from his throat. "We can't. Tice burned his lab down."

"Darn." She made that same sound before she turned serious again. "You know why he's doing this?"

"Yes." Carrington was jealous. He was jealous because of what they had done.

"I want you to know I wouldn't have done it any other way. I don't regret a thing."

There was some relief in that. He had been about to take all the blame. "Good to know."

He could see that her eyes were filling up. "I'm not leaving. I swore I wouldn't leave, this is not leaving."

"I'm not leaving either. I promise that too." But the sinking feeling in his chest told a different story. "Then why does it feel like it is?"

"You know why." She shook her head. "As my students would say, this is going to suck real bad."

Yeah, it was. "We'll survive it." They had no other choice. "It's only for a few days. We'll have a whole extra week off. I can probably get Hotch to throw in another one."

"I can likely manage that as well." She nodded. "After this we'll never have to feel like that again."

"Never."

She looked at him for a long moment. "If I come over there right now I will not let go."

He understood that feeling. "Neither would I."

"I do still love you."

"I love you." He noticed movement over her shoulder, men coming in the elevator lobby. "It's time to go." She shrunk into herself somehow. "I'll get you home as soon as I can."

"You better." With one last long look she turned and went to meet the men from the Witness Protection program.

Once the formalities were over he joined Hotch on the catwalk. "I'm coming back on desk duty." He said. "I can't sit at home now."

Hotch nodded. Spencer could see it in his eyes; he was thinking of the day he sent Haley away. Of the endless weeks the Foyet file lay open on his desk. Of the hollow echo of his empty home. Of what had happened in the end. "Of course."


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-five**

**Day 16**

Clara Lee had honestly never been that comfortable around men.

It had all started with her step-father, of course. She'd known he wasn't treating her right as far back as she could remember. Eventually it came to a head and she'd used his baseball bat to defend herself. At the time she'd had no knowledge of how her medical issues intersected with her sex life. She only knew that she was a Good Girl and Good Girls save it for their husbands.

She was rather proud of that now.

Through high school she'd avoided men entirely. The fathers of her friends tended to look at her in ways that made her decidedly uncomfortable, thanks to her step-father's tale telling. But her sister vixens had understood, and to a one they had kept their fathers and older brothers and boyfriend's friends away from her. According to Kim everyone who took the chance to get to know her knew that she didn't deserve that crap.

And behind the scenes Nana had been working. By the time she presented herself to the committee at the Old Dominion Cotillion and later the International all the women there knew the truth of what went on. They welcomed her into society, with its benefit of lifelong business and social connections, with open arms and very specific lessons. By the time the first formal dance came around, when she and the other debutants were escorted by VMI cadets in their fine uniforms she had learned how to politely freeze them out, to maintain her dignity in any situation. Given that and her family background the VMI boys treated her like royalty, with respectful awe. That continued right through her years and Washington and Lee, and into adulthood, where education was still a female-dominated field. At no time did she ever feel the need to relax her guard around men.

Then she met Spencer. A gentle man with the heart of a poet and a true understanding of what love meant. She loved him; there was no other way to describe it. He held her heart now. And Aaron, her brother might have rejected their culture but he had not forgotten those early lessons. He was still a fine gentleman; even in the short time she had known him that had been obvious. All of a sudden she had two men in her life she could utterly trust.

Unfortunately neither of them was in this car.

"So, where are we going?" She politely opened to the two men sitting in front.

There was a long pause. "You'll know when we get there." The driver answered.

That was less than helpful. But his accent was distinctive. "You're from the Boston area then?"

"Doesn't matter."

This was not going well. "You know, I never caught your names."

There was another pause. "Jerry." The driver said again. "Lou." Had to be the other one.

Clara gave up and watched the city go by.

She didn't think anything of it until they turned into a small street just behind the Supreme Court building. "You are not serious." She murmured to herself.

Unfortunately they heard. "What? Not good enough for you?" Jerry growled out.

Clara could feel the waves of dislike and anger coming off these men. "Oh no, there's nothing wrong at all." She replied in that breezy tone that was meant to set men's minds at ease. "I've always wanted to see the inside of one of these houses." Only not like this.

"Good thing you're getting your chance." Jerry opened the door and shooed her in.

The house was brick, narrow as expected, low ceilinged, the floor still crooked even though it had been remodeled sometime in the last twenty years or so. It was one long room, big TV and sofa at the front, round table in the center, pocket of a kitchen at the end. "That's Kayla." Jerry nodded to the woman sorting through bags at the table.

"Hey." Kayla said. She indicated a number of the bags. "This is yours." She said.

Clara had nothing left of course. She had the clothes on her back, items Kim had picked out for her at the hospital gift shop, and that was all. Now she came and peeked in the bags. She had t-shirts and cheap knit pants, generic toiletries, simple basics that would do for now. "Thank you kindly, this is very helpful to be sure." She replied. She looked over at the kitchen. "If you all pick up some chicken and vegetables I don't mind doing all the cooking." She'd even wash the dishes.

"What, pizza not good enough for you?" Jerry asked.

"I beg your pardon?" What on earth had she said to incur his anger?

"Look, we get snobby rich bitches like you all the time." His sneer was reflected in the anger on the faces of the other two. "You catch your boyfriend or your third husband or your trick doing something wrong and the next thing you know the prosecutor is making you a deal. You come into the system and it's all 'I don't eat gluten! I don't eat fat! I only eat organic kale! I only wash with unicorn milk and wear recycled silk!' Well welcome to the system, princess. You need to change your whole life and that means you get to slum it with the rest of us. We're ordering pizza tonight, and it ain't gonna be gourmet either."

She gave him her best, cool smile, even as her heart started to pound and she felt the grayness start to take over at the edges. "Pizza sounds lovely." She replied. "I don't even mind anchovies." She went back to looking in bags, and found an interesting box. "What's this for?" She asked.

"You need to change your appearance." Kayla said. "Cut your hair and dye it before dinner."

"Cut my hair?" Clara had always kept her hair long, long enough to put up in a chignon should she ever do living history work. "I don't even know how to begin. And I'm not sure this ash blond is the best color for me."

"It's simple." Kayla indicated that she should turn around. "You take it like this..." Clara felt gentle fingers scooping her hair back from her ears and pulling it into a loose pony tail. "You figure out where you want to trim it and..." All of a sudden the other woman's grip tightened and there was this queer pull and then it all fell away. Clara stepped, found she could step, spun and saw the thick hank of hair in the other woman's hand. She reached back and found that her hair now ended above her shoulders, the ends a disorganized jumble. Kayla smiled as Jerry and Lou chuckled. "Now go tidy it up and dye it. Everything you need is in the bag. The color was on sale, live with it."

Clara felt scared and small just then. But she refused to show it, the women in her history would be sadly disappointed with her if she let these people, these...these..._Yankees_ see how frightened she felt. She'd never thought of anyone in those terms but for a moment she couldn't help it. She took a deep breath and stiffened her spine like she had whalebone stays holding it there. "Thank you for the help in the matter." She said as she gathered up the bags and headed for the stairs.

"I'll call you when the pizza gets here." Jerry said. "You get the room in the back, princess."

"I prefer Dr. Lee." She replied, before heading up stairs.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-six**

**Day 28**

Of course the afternoon Clara was taken into hiding they got a case. And then another one. And then another one. There was just enough time between them to swap out go-bags, it was one crisis after the other.

This left Spencer with Garcia, at least nominally, but she was in her lair most of the time, doing what she could to get them home that much sooner. So Spencer did what he could from the conference room, which was, as usual, quite a lot. But it also meant that no one was really with him for those twelve days.

Still, Garcia tried. "Were you were all night again?" She asked as she walked into the conference room one morning.

"Um, yeah. I've almost got this code cracked." Spencer replied, without turning to look. "We just need to know what the Unsub said to his accomplice and we'll have the full profile."

"Uh huh." She eyed the giant coffee mug in his hand. "When was the last time you went home?"

"Ummm...when was the last time any of us went home?"

"Yeah, any of us aren't coming off two weeks being held hostage and being cut open and all the rest of it. When was the last time you ate more than coffee? When was the last time you slept at all? Reid!" He stopped writing. She was not going away. "We're your friends and we're supposed to be looking after you. Especially now that you have this thing..."

"It's not a 'thing'." The one thing he didn't want, special treatment. "It's a...a minor inconvenience, that's all." He went back to decoding.

"No it's not!" She still wasn't giving up on it. "I had to sit there and watch you die twice now Spencer! If there is one thing I never want to do in my life again it's watch someone I care about die! Now if you don't start taking care of yourself you're just going to get sicker and sicker and then some Unsub is going to get you and it's not fair and not right! Now really, when was the last time you slept? I mean really slept?"

Really slept? When was the last time he really slept? Did he remember? "I don't remember." He said. But that was a lie, he remembered the last time he truly slept. That night after the Unsub left, when he slept with Clara in his arms, and woke late, having rested deeply and well for the first time in his life. He made the last note on the board and turned to her, the armor of competency and pleasantness having fallen away for the moment. "I can't sleep. That's the data they need."

"But you need to sleep! Come here." He obediently followed her to the small sofa where she was shaking out the throw she had once left there. "Okay, I will get them that code thing, you lay down and at least try. When they're on their way back I'm going to take you home and make you soup and you sleep on my couch tonight, all right?"

Even though he knew Garcia made very good soup even the thought set his stomach to twisting. "No. Penelope, that is a very sweet offer but it's not going to help. I can't sleep and I can't eat right now and there's nothing I or anyone else can do about it. I just have to wait for it to clear up. It always does, eventually."

"Yeah, but you have to try."

This was why he never talked about it. "You can't force yourself to sleep and everything feels like it's going to come back up." He sighed as he saw his frustration reflected on her face. "I've been trying to eat eggs and bananas, they're supposed to help, long baths before bed, that sort of thing.

"Hey! Okay, so there is stuff we can try." It wasn't much but she looked hopeful. "Okay what about exercise. Morgan usually feels better after he goes to the gym and hits things."

Spencer sighed again. "Too much aggressive exercise like running or martial arts actually raises cortisol levels, has the opposite effects. Walking and sunlight are supposed to help; I have been when I can."

"I'll start going with you if you want."

"That...actually might be helpful." More time with friends was supposed to help as well.

"We can totally do that! Okay, what about medication?"

Sigh. "There isn't one."

"Nothing?"

"They're working on one but it isn't even in the trial stage yet. I already contacted them and asked." More like begged, but they didn't have enough samples to spare.

"Are you sure? I could do a thing..."

"I wish there was, but no. Even if I went for a shot it wouldn't last. Given traffic it might not last long enough for me to get back to the office." He sighed. "I've been like this my whole life. I don't know why it feels worse this time but it hasn't killed me yet and it's not going to now."

"But when Hankle..."

"There is no Hankle this time, Penelope. I'm perfectly safe. I just have to wait for it to pass." Or go get a shot, but even the thought of that was impossible. He couldn't go that way. It could not be borne.

"I have to do something! I won't let you just...fade away on us!"

He knew what it would take to fix this. He knew the only thing that would bring the color back to his world. "Then help me find Carrington. That's the only sure way right now."

"I know, I know." She sighed herself and opened the tin. A wave of sweet vanilla scent made it's way through the gray and opened a tiny hole to let some warm through. Before he could think about it he snagged one from the tin. "See, cookies!"

"Some of the literature does suggest one thing..."

"What?"

"I don't want you to have to work more..."

"What? What? Tell me!"

He sighed again...

* * *

><p>Later that night, with the latest Unsub caught and the team on their way home he curled up in the corner of Garcia's purple couch. He had his go-bag with him, she insisted on his spending the night. "I'm asking too much." He said.<p>

"No you are not." She insisted. "This is tonight and tomorrow we have a delivery coming in to the office and I will personally make sure you eat eggs and bananas and whatever else Google tells me will help. And after lunch I will drag you out on a walk with me, we'll go wander the woods for thirty, the world can live without us that long. Now here." She stuck a plate in his hands.

Cinnamon rolls. She'd made a batch, laced them with nuts and cream cheese icing, rich and gooey and oh so tempting. They smelled like heaven, and for a moment he was back on the island with the sound of the sea and the gulls and the planes overhead and Clara was taking something out of the oven. "You know, it really is..."

"...the scent? I know. I ordered candles for the office and for your apartment. JJ and Kate like that sort of thing and Morgan can suck it up. But you also need to eat, so here." She handed him a fork and milk and took her own to the other end of the couch. "And happy movies are supposed to be good, so I have booted up the master for us."

Charlie Chaplain, a team tradition. When was the last time they had a movie night. "Thank you." He said with more gratitude than he thought possible. He might just make it through. Maybe.

She beamed at him. "What are friends for?"


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

**Day 31**

"So what did they say?" Dave asked as he settled into the chair across from Hotch's desk.

"She tendered her resignation at the school, effective immediately." Hotch replied.

"Which means they're relocating her; they'll move her to a new place, give her a stipend to live on, help her find a job, all of it. They'll make sure Carrington doesn't find her."

"I know."

Dave studied his old friend for a long moment. "Carrington isn't Foyet."

"Meaning?"

"He kills at a distance, poison he implanted during a medical procedure some time before. This tells me he doesn't enjoy the killing, it's not something he wants to savor up close and personal, it's a means to an end. Killing his victims protected his identity since he could be connected to the house."

Hotch frowned. "So what end would killing her bring? We already have more than enough evidence to convict him."

"Exactly," Dave replied. "How do we know he wants her dead?"

"You saw the threats he left at her apartment?"

"Yes, but how do we know he meant them? This is a trained surgeon who does the most delicate work; he has to have control regardless of his emotional state."

"You think the threats were a ruse? Why would he do that?"

"What angered him?" Ah, wait. "You didn't see the recording from the house."

"No. I thought it better given my connection to Clara."

"Let's just say that Reid got what Carrington wanted."

Dave saw the light bulb going on. "Jealousy, he wanted them forced apart as retaliation."

"And we have done so. His end game has been achieved. Odds are he's lurking around somewhere, watching Reid be miserable. Eventually we'll trip over him and that will be that."

"In the meantime there's no reason to assume he's actually hunting for Clara like..."

"...like Foyet hunted Haley. Exactly, wherever she is she's safe."

Hotch sighed. "I just wish she was safe and home."

* * *

><p>This was decidedly unfair.<p>

Clara sat at the window and looked out at the grey back wall of the building in front of her. It was the only window she was allowed to sit at because it faced that wall, so no one could see her in return. She sat and watched the day grow dim and the light of the city replace the sun as the reason for the glow in the sky.

She had yet to convince her guards that she was not what they considered her to be.

For three weeks they'd not had a single kind word for her except to comment that her hair looked different enough. She'd been eating their junk food and watching their endless sports and not complaining about the mess downstairs. She'd used every trick in her book to try to convince them that she respected them and the work they did and in no way looked down upon them. And not a one of them had worked.

Truth was she did respect them and the work they did, and she was profoundly grateful to them for doing it. She just wished they didn't have to be such dicks about it.

She had to change her hair, she understood that. But did they have to chop it off like that? Did she have to dye and work it until it looked like straw? She had to change her way of living, but did that mean she couldn't have any books at all? She couldn't keep any sort of a journal? She couldn't even look after her own health? She had to stay closed away until Carrington would likely stop looking for her, but did they have to lock her up _here_? Not only was it all of three blocks from Union Station, where she could so easily meet Spencer but these buildings in particular? Were they that tone deaf or was it deliberate?

She was leaning toward deliberate, likely starting with Jerry. After all, he was the one who brought her the "wall art".

Her heritage was a complicated matter for her. There was much there to despise, much that her ancestors were entirely and completely wrong about. But there were other things, other parts of their make up and lives, that she found fascinating and worthy of study. She did what she could to alleviate the suffering that still came from the decisions they had made back then, but at the same time she cherished the stories and customs they had created that had so nearly been lost to time. Still, it was complicated, so she tried to keep it to herself much of the time.

But given how _they_ were acting, in this time and this space, she was not going to act _ashamed_ of where she came from.

Most people thought the Stars and Bars were a symbol of redneck trash racist culture, and in modern society it was an unfortunate truth that they had been adopted by the worst kind of people. But back then it had been the battle flag of the Army of Northern Virginia, proudly carried by her great-Grandfather's army as they fought for all the wrong reasons. She displaced it by draping it over the mirror above the dresser so she wouldn't have to look at what she had become. It was the only familiar thing left to her.

Her head ached.

Her head ached, her body ached, and her stomach was all twisted up. She looked at the barely nibbled cheeseburger and pile of fries they had given her for supper and pushed them aside, she was so very not hungry right now. She stared at the napkin where she'd been doodling math, trying to focus, which hadn't been helping at all. She couldn't even find refuge in dreaming, sleep kept eluding her.

She wanted to go _home_.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the window frame and willed herself back home. Back to a house perched on an island and a pile of bedding under a shadbush and warm, strong arms that would never let go. She felt her heart skip and stutter and she nearly lost her breath as she remembered those arms and the love of the gentle man who held her.

She felt the tears come as she dreamed of home.

* * *

><p>The problem, Spencer thought, was that he wasn't Hotch.<p>

When Haley and Jack went into Protection Hotch had kept _going_. They all knew it bothered him, they knew he was lonely and aching and afraid, but it didn't affect his ability to function. He got up in the morning and got a run in and then a shower and put on a dark blue suit and a tie and went to work and hunted Unsubs more or less efficiently and at night he went home and dropped off his dry cleaning and likely had some kind of very healthy dinner and got to bed at a reasonable hour. He continued to function like a modern American male/FBI agent even through his fear and grief.

And now Spencer was expected to follow that example.

The problem was that it hurt.

There was a constant throbbing behind his eyes now, a low level migraine that would not go away. He slept in bits and snatches when his body would no longer sustain wakefulness. He slept on the plane and on the train to and from Quantico and just yesterday he had a remarkable 20 minute nap standing up in the main police station in Santa Fe. He no longer ate, he sustained himself on coffee laced with enough sugar to keep his energy up; coffee he could no longer taste. Even the bowl of mac and cheese on the table in front of him, a long time staple, was turning out to be more than his stomach would allow. When he did sleep he dreamed of a sunny day and a shadbush and he sweet weight of a woman in his arms. He dreamed of _home_.

This time it was much worse than when he lost Maeve.

Maeve, who had been so right, and so wrong. He was not meant to love. It would have been much better if he had never tried. But he had, twice now, and lost both times and now he had to pay the penalty. He was doing all he could and he still paid.

His chest ached too. Tears, he thought, that would not come.

He wrapped his arms around the book Maeve had left him, the only thing he had left of love, stretched out on a couch meant for one, and waited for the day to begin again.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-eight**

**Day 46**

One month to the day after Hotch sent Clara away he became aware of a man following him.

He'd actually been following Hotch all week-end, ever since he stopped for groceries Friday night, but Hotch was a careful sort, and paid close attention just to be certain before he did something he might regret.

But this Monday morning he was certain. This man had been following him. And furthermore he knew who it was.

So when he saw JJ walking toward the coffee shop he sent her a quick text. Then she got behind the man while he confronted him. "Dr. Kenneth Carrington?" Hotch asked, just to be sure.

The man in question was entirely bald. He had a neatly trimmed moustache and beard, and penetrating, intelligent eyes. When he spoke it was with a cultured accent, the sort that speaks of money and privilege. "Yes." It was acknowledgement, not question.

"Dr. Carrington, you're under arrest." As he went through the litany JJ got Carrington into cuffs. Carrington didn't resist. If anything he seemed to be helping. "Why are you following me?" Hotch asked once Miranda had been recited.

"I was curious." Carrington replied.

"Curious?"

"I wanted to see if you were grieving yet."

They hadn't had a decently obscure Unsub in a while; Hotch had forgotten how they gave him a headache. "Let's get him back to the office."

* * *

><p>"We got Carrington." JJ said as she entered the break area.<p>

Morgan was just standing there with Dave and Garcia, getting coffee, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, he's been following Hotch for a few days; we finally caught up with him at Good Beans this morning."

"Why was he following Hotch?" Dave asked.

"He said he was curious. He wanted to see if we were grieving." JJ said. "Hotch is calling the Marshals to check on Clara, but no one has said anything." Just then the elevator opened and Carrington was pulled out by the two agents escorting him to interrogation. "That's him." She said.

Carrington moved with his escorts quietly a little ways, but then stopped, seemingly to watch someone down one of the hallways. Curious themselves the team moved to intercept him. "Forty-eight hours." Carrington said.

"What's in forty-eight hours?" Dave asked.

Carrington focused his intense eyes on Dave. "I give him forty-eight hours, no more. At this point the damage is likely irreversible." The smallest, sly smile came over the Unsub's face. "Of course Dr. Lee is more fragile, what with the diabetes and all." He pitched his voice to be heard clearly. "She's already dead I'm sure."

"What did you do to her?" Morgan demanded.

Carrington smiled and dropped his voice to a normal tone. "Nothing," he said. "You did it for me."

"Get him to interrogation." Morgan said. As Carrington was pulled away the group turned in. "What do you think he means?"

"I don't know." JJ said. "What did we do?"

"Reid?" Garcia asked, a nervous quaver in her voice.

They turned in the direction Carrington had been looking to find Spencer standing there, a handful of files in one hand, the other pressing down on his left bicep. He was frowning, looking at nothing, his face white as a sheet and going gray. "What's wrong?" Dave asked as they moved to his side.

"My arm hurts." Spencer said in a faint, distant voice. Then his eyes closed and down he went like a falling tree.

Dave took charge as he and Morgan dropped down beside their fallen friend. "JJ! Grab the first aid pack from under the sink! Garcia! Call 911! Tell the medics we're going to need a LifeFlight helo to Washington Medical!"

"Reid! Reid!" Morgan slapped his face lightly but there was no response. He pressed two fingers against his neck. "I'm not getting a pulse."

"Here!" JJ handed them the first aid case.

"Rip his shirt open." Dave said. He yanked open the case and pulled out a blue and yellow box as Morgan went to work on the younger man's clothing. As he opened the box it began to speak.

_Stay calm. Follow these voice instructions. Make sure 911 is called now._

"I'm calling! I'm calling!" Garcia said

"What are you doing?" Morgan asked as he pulled Reid's tie off, and popped the buttons on his shirt as he pulled it open. Then he grabbed the collar of his undershirt and yanked hard, ripping it down the center.

_Begin by barring patient's chest and torso. Remove or cut clothing if needed. When patient's chest is exposed tear open foil package and remove pads._

"When you get to be my age they tell you what to look for." Dave replied. He opened the package and pulled out the two white squares, sticking one to Spencer's chest, another to his side, exactly according to the diagram on the box.

"Yeah, but what are you doing!?"

_Do not touch patient. Analyzing heart rhythm. Please wait._

"Oh my god." JJ said.

_Do not touch patient. Analyzing heart rhythm. Please wait._

"I just hope this thing works." Dave said.

_Preparing shock. Move away from the patient._

"Nu uh," Morgan said, his eyes too wide.

_Shock will be delivered in three...two...one..._

Spencer's body clenched and released as the shock jumped across his heart.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-nine**

**Day 46**

_It was a coffee house unlike any other, warm and comforting and somehow very bright. But it was one he knew instantly. And he knew who he would find there. "Is this seat taken?" He asked._

_"Spencer!" Maeve took her leave of the conversation she was having, stood and hugged him close. "You're not supposed to be here."_

_"Why not? There's nothing left for me out there. Why not be here?"_

_"Clara is out there. She's waiting for you."_

_"You know about her?"_

_She laughed, delighted. "Yes, of course. And I think she's perfect for you, you need someone who understands, even more than I could."_

_He always thought she understood. But how could she not know the boundless depths of the grey that had dogged his steps for so long, first with her loss and now this. "She's gone."_

_"No, you can get her back. You will get her back. And then you two will dance together for the rest of your lives. Love is your destiny Spencer; you will find it with her."_

_"I love you." He loved both of them, he didn't know how but he did._

_She cupped her face in his hand, her touch the feather light of an angel. "That's how it works. The more you love the more you can love. Now go to her, I'll see you again in time."_

_"How?"_

_"First, this..." She smiled, pressed her hand against his chest, and the world exploded._

* * *

><p>Spencer awoke to a great, thumping pain filling his chest. "Ow!" He yelled.<p>

"Welcome back, Lazarus." Dave said.

_Shock delivered. It is now safe to touch the patient._

"What's going on?" Hotch asked from somewhere up...there

"Reid's heart stopped!" Garcia said from somewhere south of here.

_Commence CPR_

"No, don't." His chest hurt enough already, he did not need broken ribs on top of it.

"I'm not going to." Morgan said. "Just stay down there. What happened?"

"I don't know." He'd been walking down the hall, they brought Carrington in; he said something happened to Clara...Clara...Spencer felt his heart start to race faster than he thought possible. Without realizing it he started sucking in air.

"Whatever you're doing stop that." Dave said. "Just lie still until the medics get here."

"Clara..."

"Let me handle it Reid." Hotch said. Spencer nodded and felt the world spin. Of course, Hotch could handle anything.

"Make a hole people." Two medics swam into view. He felt them poking at him, but it was all very far away now. The grey was keeping him from everything. But they were poking, he felt needles. Needles. He could smell burning fish. The grey carried him away once more.

* * *

><p>One minute Reid was dying, the next he wasn't. Derek Morgan had never been so grateful for technology. He was even more grateful when the medics got there. Of course that was when his little brother started drifting out again. "Reid..." One medic was getting an IV going while the other swapped out the pads on Reid's chest. Reid babbled something incoherent. "Reid!" As Morgan watched they hooked him up to a monitor and his heart beat started echoing across the lobby.<p>

"Well there's your problem." One medic said.

"Dr. Reid! Dr. Reid!" The other said. He was trying to get Reid to wake up...

"V-Tac!" Medic 1 called out

"He's out."

"Back up people!"

They all stepped back and gave the medic's room. A moment later Reid's body jumped again and he groaned. "Dr. Reid?" Medic 2 asked.

"Stop doing that." Reid complained. "It hurts."

"Stop dying on us." The medic replied.

Morgan looked at the others. Garcia looked like she was going to go next, JJ had gone white as a sheet, old guard Rossi looked terrified and Hotch...well, he could see where Hotch's family came from. Hotch was stone.

The medics quickly did what needed doing and got Reid up on the gurney. Their radio went off as they were working. "Helo's coming in." One said to the other.

"Morgan, go with him." Hotch said. "Garcia, pack what you need to operate remotely. JJ, take Garcia and head for the hospital. Kate, take Anderson and process Carrington then meet us there. Dave, come with me."

"Where are we going?" Dave asked.

"To get the Marshal Service to tell us where Clara is."

"Oh we get the easy job."

By now the medics had Reid up and moving. Morgan stuck close. "Just hang on little brother." He said quietly. "Just hang on."

* * *

><p>Of course it couldn't just be Savannah on duty today. "You had one job!" Kim Chu yelled at him as they ran through the doors.<p>

Before Morgan could even answer they whisked Reid off to one of the bays, and a small crowd of medical people swarmed around him. He had been in and out of consciousness the entire trip, hanging in there if nothing else. Thankfully they didn't have to shock him again. Now all Morgan could do was back off and let them all, including Kim and Savannah, do their work.

He spotted a familiar face among the people in the ER. Matt, the tech who had helped Garcia plumb the depths of the record system, was doing something or other at the main desk, in front of all the monitors. Stood to reason an IT guy would not be in the middle of saving a life. "Hey." He asked quietly. "Can you tell me what's going on in there?"

"Yeah, your guy's got a cardiac arrhythmia going."

"Arrhythmia?"

"Yeah, he's not maintaining a steady heartbeat. He keeps going in to v-tac."

"V-tac?"

Matt smiled, "Ventricular tachycardia. Look here." He called up something on the laptop he was using. Morgan looked over his shoulder and saw a line being drawn, with strong, regular up and down spikes. "That's what we call normal sinus rhythm, blood goes in, blood gets pushed out, everything resets, sixty times a minute, every minute from before you're born until the day you die."

"Got it," Morgan nodded. Without thinking he felt for his own pulse. Nice and steady and strong, just like the animation in front of him. That was the goal here.

"Now that is your boy." Matt pointed to one of the screens in front of him.

It was showing the same pattern, only the peaks were shallower and much closer together. As he watched they got closer and closer, smaller and smaller, and then it started doing this squiggle and the room behind him got busier. After what seemed like forever they went back to pattern, but still way too close and shallow. "It's going too fast."

"Yeah, the bottom half of his heart wants to beat so fast it can't fill up with blood, so it can't push it out to the rest of his body. That's bad. If it lasts longer than 30 seconds they fire an electrical charge through the heart to reset it."

Rest of the body. Places like brains and lungs and important stuff. "So how do we slow it down?"

"Depends on what's making it speed up."

Now everyone who worked in the ER wore scrubs in some kind of blue. As Morgan looked around he noticed a nurse in pink come into the room. "Someone called over for some pit?" She said to no one in particular.

But someone must have been listening for her. "Stat means shag ass!" Kim snapped as she hurried out of Reid's room and took something from the woman. "Next time run!" She turned and hurried back into the room.

"She's cranky today." Matt muttered.

Morgan moved over to have a look. From here he could see what Kim was doing as well as the monitor in Reid's room. He watched Kim pull something from the bottle the pink nurse had brought and inject it into Reid's IV. Almost as soon as it hit his system Morgan could see the rhythm on the monitor slow. It didn't match up to the animation Matt showed him but it noticeably slowed and became stronger.

"Bingo." Savannah said. "You were right."

"This will buy us some time." Kim put a bright pink label on that IV bag and began directing people again.

But Morgan saw that their energy was less frantic, felt more like they were settling in rather than catching up and he found that he could breathe again. "So what happened?" He asked Savannah when she and Kim finally came out at a walking pace.

"I was about to ask you that." Kim said.

"Remember that hormone problem he has?" Savanna asked. "We won't be certain until we get the tests back, but it looks like his brain has stopped making it entirely."

"And that caused this? He was fine until today!"

"Actually he's probably been degrading for a while now. Something happened today that pushed him over the edge." Kim said. "But he was fine when we tested him a month ago."

"Yeah, I know." Savannah nodded. "I haven't heard of anything major happening."

Right, something had been going on. Now all they had to do was figure out what it was and make sure it didn't happen anymore. This was just another form of profiling, he could do this. "But it's fixed now. We just have to make sure it doesn't happen again, right?"

The two doctors looked at each other. "We didn't fix it Derek."

"But he's doing better." He pointed to the monitor.

"That's because we're giving him a synthetic analog." She pointed to the bag with the pink label. "Right now that IV is keeping him alive. Thirty seconds off it and his heart will stop."


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter Forty**

**Day 46**

Hotch stepped out of the SUV and looked around with a sigh.

Dave came around the vehicle and looked around as he joined his friend. They were in a curious alley just behind the Supreme Court, lined with little row houses that looked like they might be some of the oldest in the city. "You want to tell me what's going on?" He asked. "You've been angry since your friend at the US Attorney's office told you were to find her."

Hotch considered this a moment. "When I went no-contact with my father I walked away from everything. I barely spoke to my mother and Nana anymore, I didn't talk about my family to anyone, I avoided anything that had to do with the culture I was raised in, I..."

"You walked away from all of it." Dave nodded. "I assume Sean did as well."

"Yeah."

"But Clara didn't. From the sound of it after her family abandoned her your grandmother sheltered her from yours. So the only family she had left was the one in the stories your grandmother told. That culture is a big part of her life. If you want to help her and understand her you have to go back to that."

"I do. But it's not that easy."

"Hey." Dave waited until Hotch turned to look at him. "Look who you're talking to. I told you my stories from back home." Back when most, if not all, of his friends were mobbed up one way or the other. "Sins of the fathers only last seven generations; I think it's been longer for you."

"It has." Hotch sighed and looked around again. "These houses are the last remnants of the Old Capitol Prison complex. This is where they held women from the Tidewater families accused of spying and sabotage."

"Unpleasantly ironic." And Clara would know that, Dave thought. It was unfortunate that they hadn't found a place to relocate her to yet. That meant she'd been stuck indoors all this time. "I doubt they knew." Most in the Marshal service were not bright enough to realize that they had put her into what her history would tell her was a prison cell.

"She knew." Hotch opened the back of the vehicle and rooted in his gym bag, replacing his blue jacket with a grey hooded sweatshirt with a college logo on the front.

"What's that?" Dave asked.

"Hopefully a family joke." Hotch took a deep breath, went to #5 and knocked. When an angry face peeked past the blinds he showed his badge and the letter he carried.

"You're kidding me." The man said when he opened the door.

"No. We caught him. It's safe for Dr. Lee to leave custody." Hotch said as they entered the small house.

Dave looked around and frowned. Clearly the Marshal's here were having trouble distinguishing between a private school principal and a drug moll. Shabby would be polite, overlaid with fast food detritus and the sports network. On top of that the air was stale. "Didn't your mother teach you how to keep house?" He asked kindly.

Angry face frowned more and looked up the stairwell. "Hey princess! Time to go!" he hollered up, before he signed off on the paperwork Hotch carried. "Better you than me. I cannot stand the snobby bitch type."

Dave rather thought Hotch was going to strangle the man but he was distracted by footsteps on the stairs. "Aaron!" Clara said, relief in her voice. He turned and saw in her what he missed in Reid, she'd lost weight to the point of looking frail, had deep bags under her eyes and the general air of being unwell. But it was the grayish color of her skin which spoke of poor circulation that concerned him. Hotch met her at the bottom of the stairs where she patted the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Knight of the Tidewater come to rescue me?" She asked with a gentle smile. "I had wondered you know."

"Something like that." He said. "I did my undergraduate work there."

"I bet you looked very dashing. I'd love to see a picture."

"I think I burned them all."

"Aww."

For a moment, as she stepped off the stairs, she put her hand on her shoulder and swayed a bit. Hotch reached to catch her if needed. "Are you all right?"

She managed a shy smile, but it was not a comfortable one. "To be honest I have not been feeling well. I believe I'll give Kim a call tonight, perhaps go see her in the morning."

"She wants me to bring you to the hospital to check you out."

Clara was quiet a moment. "Normally I would complain, but...I think that's a good idea."

"All right. Do you need to pack anything?"

"Not a thing."

"Well then." He offered her his arm, very formally, which brightened her smile as she accepted, and held the door for her just so, leaving them both chuckling.

"Are you two going to let me in on the joke?" Dave asked when they got in the car.

"Ummm." Hotch looked like he was considering this. "Did your grandmother ever make you get involved with anything like...folk dancing?"

"That's not exactly it." Clara said.

"Drill team. They made us dance. Close enough." Hotch replied.

"No. My Nona made me be an altar boy. But I know what you're talking about." Wait a minute. "Don't tell me your grandmother made you do something like that?"

"Ahhh." Hotch sighed again as Clara started to giggle, "High school and my first two years of college." He confessed. "Nana insisted. Haley was involved as well; she was my partner, I..."

"Was she?" Clara brightened, "Old Dominion or International?"

"Old Dominion. Did you do both?"

"I did."

This was gold! Dave leaned around to look at her. "Did they have to wear costumes?"

"Uniforms. They matched the grey for the team sweatshirts." She rubbed Hotch's arm again. "With white pants, scarlet sashes and big plumed hats."

"I will pay you money for a picture."

"I can probably e-mail the committee for one. I will as soon as I get back online."

They laughed all the way to the hospital.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter Forty-one**

**Day 46**

"My god, what happened to your hair?" Kim said as soon as they walked in to the ER.

At first look it seemed like the most inappropriate question, but the profilers could see that Kim was trying to put Clara at ease by acting like there was nothing more important. "Long story," Clara said with a tired sigh. "It's fixable. I'll get a bob or something, get the color fixed. Where's Spencer?" She looked around the group.

"Come on." Kim was already leading her to the bed in the room next door. "We're checking him in sweetie."

"What?" That got Clara's attention. "Why? What's wrong? Ohhh..." That bolt of adrenalin looked to have done it, her hand went to her shoulder and she started breathing too fast.

"He's going to be fine, hun, and so are you. Lay down." With that they started bustling around Clara much the way they had bustled around Spencer.

Dave and Hotch headed over to where the other three were waiting. "What happened?" Hotch asked.

"Reid went into Ventricular Tachycardia." Garcia said. She had her laptop on a chair opposite her and had been typing away most of the time there. "As a wise wizard once said, it's only mostly dead, not all dead."

"Mostly dead?" Dave asked.

"Savannah said his brain stopped producing oxytocin." Morgan said. "Without it he can't control his heart rate."

"I've been doing the Reid thing and looking it up." Garcia said. "Let me tell you, they are right on the cutting edge of dealing with this stuff. Like researchers over at George Washington coming around to look at you edge of dealing with the stuff. It looks like he just doesn't produce a normal amount of it to begin with, which relates back to the whole autism/schizophrenia thing. Now we know that oxytocin is involved in human bonding and relationships, so being bonded up with people helps bring your blood levels up. In the same way losing people force your blood levels down. Not a lot but every time you lose someone you balance out a little lower."

"Spence has lost a lot of people." JJ said with a groan. "I'm surprised this didn't happen after Maeve."

"Yeah, so am I. Because if you're already low then a little lower every time over a lot of years can get really low and then one more push and then this happens. They're thinking that this might be why lonely people have a higher risk of heart attacks."

"I wonder what pushed him." Hotch said.

"We think Carrington did." Morgan explained their theory.

"Slick," Dave nodded. "If he had worked it right Clara would have just dropped dead. Fitting revenge for a jealous lover. Now she has this as well?"

"Not exactly," Garcia replied. She switched to another tab to check her notes. "From what I can tell oxytocin is made in the hippocampus part of the brain but then stored in the anterior pituitary so you can send out larger amounts when you need it. Her anterior pituitary is the part that was damaged in the car accident."

"So she's vulnerable to interruptions in flow." Dave nodded. "No backup supply. He tricks us into sending her into Witness Protection, knowing she won't get the kind of contact she needs to keep her levels stable. Then all he has to do is wait; one good shock and down she goes. I wonder if being a part of all those groups helped."

Garcia nodded. "Social connections do help but intimate connections push your levels higher."

"But social connections are more stable. A lover might bring you up to a four, let's say, but how far will your drop if he leaves you? Whereas the Daughters of the American Revolution might only get you to a two, but they aren't going anywhere."

"The big question now is how do we fix it?" Hotch asked.

"They don't know yet." Morgan replied. "Right now they have Reid on the stuff, but they can't take him off. It sounds to me like they have to jump start his brain to get him making it again."

"And we have an idea." Savannah said, coming up to the group, clipboard in hand. "You hold Dr. Reid's medical power of attorney, right?" She asked Hotch.

"Yes, what do you need?" He asked.

"We want to try something. It's not invasive, it can't do him any more harm, but it's kind of unorthodox..."

"That's all right." He signed off on the papers she gave him. "Who holds for Clara?"

"Kim, but we had it witnessed." She took the papers back with a sigh and checked her tablet. "And we have a bari-bed free in the ICU. That is a miracle."

"You're going to do this up there?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah. You guys get the visitor elevators, just head on up; we'll be moving Dr. Reid shortly. I'll let you know when you can go in and have a peek."

The team decamped and headed for the next waiting room. Once there Garcia set up her laptop again. "I tapped into the monitor network." She said.

"Is that legal?" Dave asked.

"The questions you ask." Garcia replied. She put up two windows on the screen. "OK, this is Reid and this one is Clara."

"Can you pull up an example of normal for us?" Morgan asked. Garcia did and they peered over her shoulder. You didn't have to be a doctor to see that both patients hearts were beating too fast and too shallow compared to healthy. "When we were on the helo he kept doing this squiggle thing."

"Yeah, that was the mostly dead part." Garcia replied.

From where they were they watched them wheel Spencer into one of the ICU rooms. Then it was nothing but wait until eventually they wheeled Clara in as well. "Now what?" Dave asked.

"More waiting." JJ replied.

But there wasn't a lot of waiting. Less than five minutes after they wheeled Clara in Garcia sat up. "Look!" She said, nodding at the screen.

They looked over her shoulder. As they watched first Clara's and then Spencer's heart slowed down, the contractions growing deeper and stronger until within moments they were beating in a rhythm that nearly matched the healthy ideal. "Not bad." Dave said. "Hopefully this means it's working."

A couple of minutes later they heard a tap on a window. They looked up to see Savannah standing there, an IV bag with a pink label in each hand and a big smile on her face. "There we go!" Morgan said, his smile growing.

"So he's off the meds and doing better on his own." JJ breathed a sigh of relief. "I wonder how they did it."

A few minutes more and they had the chance to ask. "I cannot believe that worked." Savannah said as she and Kim stepped out to join the team.

"I told you, hormone of love baby." Kim had her own grin on her face.

"What did you do?" Morgan asked. "You said you couldn't do anything."

"We didn't." Savannah replied. She pointed to the window behind her. They all moved to take a look.

Kim and Savannah had solved the problem by tucking Clara and Spencer in bed together.

Spencer was sleeping or sedated, hard to tell which, but even hooked to a dozen or more tubes and monitors he looked utterly relaxed and happy, as did Clara, who was also plugged in to the network. But all those tubes and wires hadn't stopped her from curling up against his chest, and it hadn't stopped him from putting his arms around her.

Even in drugged slumber they had each felt the presence of the other, and in response their broken minds and hearts were healed.


	42. Chapter 42

_**Part 4 - Home**_

_Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts._

_Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr._

* * *

><p><em><strong>.<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Forty-two<strong>

**Day 47**

Sometime in the night Spencer woke. He could sense that something wasn't right, he could feel tubes and things stuck to him and in him, and picked up the cold scents and slight sounds of a hospital. One didn't usually have to panic awake in hospitals, whatever caused the panic was over by the time you got to one, so he didn't feel the need to rush. Besides, there was this other utterly wonderful sensation going on.

He opened his eyes and blinked down at the woman lying against him. Her hair was a mess and she looked drawn and weary still but her face was that of an angel. She must have sensed him waking because she stirred ever so slightly without opening her eyes. "I'm home." Clara murmured before settling against him once more.

"We're home." He replied, his hand slowly stroking her back as he started drifting. Sleep seemed like a good idea.

* * *

><p><strong>Day 48<strong>

With Garcia able to keep an eye on things remotely and Savannah on the case Morgan and the rest of the team felt comfortable leaving a couple of agents on guard and going home for the night. Now it was morning and he was making coffee while his girl called in for the report. "They're doing exceptionally well." She told him.

"What I want to hear." He nodded and passed her mug. "What time can I go pick them up?"

Savannah chuckled. "Oh no. Your boy just bought himself a week in our glamorous and exciting cardiology department."

Damn. "You said they were doing exceptionally well."

"Yeah, at this point in the game 'doing exceptionally well' means they got them up to go to the bathroom. They're stable but we need to make sure this doesn't happen again. You might want to bring his go-bag around but otherwise you're going to be watching him sleep all day."

Huh. "I guess it's still sinking in just how serious this is."

"Yeah. Rossi literally saved his life, as sure as if he'd been shot and was bleeding out."

"Over a broken heart."

Savannah moved over and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Some people just need people more than others."

"Is he going to be able to go back into the field?"

"That is a very good question."

* * *

><p><strong>Day 48<strong>

The next day, not long after Morgan made it to the office, he got an e-mail from Savannah. "Hey!" He called out when he was the attached picture. Reid was still all plugged in but he was sitting up in bed, his eyes were clear and bright and his color was back. Clara was sitting next to him, her head on his shoulder, not looking as good yet but she was awake and smiling. "Someone's looking better." He said, sharing with the group.

"Oh good." JJ sighed as they passed the tablet around. "What does she say?"

"She said they're transferring them out of the ICU to telemetry today, which means they can have visitors."

"Awesome!" Garcia said. "Do you guys need me today?"

"I think we can live without you for one day." Hotch replied with the smallest of smiles. "I'll be in meetings all day."

* * *

><p>By the time Hotch was out of his third meeting and at the hospital Garcia had already worked her magic. He found the team sitting around the hospital room. Spencer and Clara were curled up in pajamas and bathrobes, enjoying a charming hospital supper. Spencer at least looked better than he had in weeks, bright eyed and well colored. Clara looked somewhat paler and wan still, but she was at least rallying. "Hey Aaron." She said with a smile as he came in.<p>

"I didn't feel it coming, I swear!" Spencer said.

"I know. It's all right. How are you feeling?"

"Um, honestly almost better than I have in my life." Spencer replied.

"I wish I could say the same." Clara sighed.

"Awwe, you'll get there." Garcia cooed.

"Hopefully before I run up too big of a hospital bill."

"Don't worry about it." Hotch told his sister. "I spoke to the Marshal's Service today, they were supposed to insure continuity of health care, including prescribed diet and exercise. Since they didn't this is on their tab. And with the blessings of Nana's law firm I took the liberty and spoke to the school, you indicated in your e-mail that you weren't going back..."

"No. Jim Parker's a good man; he deserves a shot at that job. And I've had an offer come up that's...tempting."

"...I arranged for continuation of your insurance coverage for another six months. And don't worry about how much it's going to cost." He sent the document he'd received at his third meeting to her tablet. "The management company at your building bought Nana's apartment back from you. Very nice places at high security buildings are going for half that."

Clara looked at the document, at all the notes for what he'd done and for a moment seemed a gobsmacked. "I cannot thank you enough brother." She said at last. "This is a load off my mind."

"Just get better." That was what mattered. Handling the paperwork end, from the management company to rolling heads at the Marshal's Service was the easy part. "What do you want in an apartment anyway?"

"Why, going to find one for me?"

"If you want."

She gave him one of those familiar, knowing smiles. "So you can vet the security?"

He'd only be able to go out in the field now if he knew she was sleeping as safely as Jack and Jessica. "That is the idea."

"All right. A proper kitchen. Not one of those little show off stage things at one end of the great room, a separate space, good sized with lots of light. And in the Edwardian style, like Nana's. And a fireplace." She elbowed Spencer, who had been talking with Morgan and JJ on the other side of the bed. "What do you want in an apartment?"

"Walking distance to the Metro system." He replied.

"That's all?"

"If I had a choice? And a fireplace."

"You're not going to find an Edwardian kitchen in a modern, high security building." Dave said. "But you can re-decorate a modern one to look Edwardian and yet be highly efficient."

"I don't even know what an Edwardian kitchen looks like." Hotch said.

"We'll talk." Dave nodded.

Just then Kim and Savannah came in. "We have lab results." Kim said. She looked at the patients. "Who's staying, who's going?"

"I don't care." Clara said. "They're family at this point." Spencer nodded his agreement.

"Okay, so Derek doesn't go through the window on me." Savannah had been looking after Spencer. "You went from too low to measure when you got to the ER to a 1.2 this morning, which is actually normal."

"Does that mean I can go home?"

"Nope. Given that this is the second time we're going to run some tests to make sure you didn't damage your heart and work on making sure this does not happen again. But you are officially out of the woods."

"Yea!" JJ and Garcia said in unison.

"And you, lady." Kim turned to Clara with a smile. "Went from too low to measure to 5.3, which is also normal. But your a1c is 4.8, your ACTH levels are low, your sodium is too high, your thyroid is low...get comfortable, we're going to be playing with your meds for a while."

"Lovely." Clara grumbled.

"Call it a vacation." Kim beamed a smile. "I've been telling you you need one." Now why did Clara and Spencer smile at each other over that?

"But they're going to be okay?" Morgan wanted to be sure.

"Yep. They should be just fine and home with ample time to get ready for Christmas." Savannah said.

"And being in the hospital will give you guys time to find a new home." JJ said.

Spencer took Clara's hand. "We're here." He said. "You guys are here. This is home."

* * *

><p>Before they left Hotch stopped Kim out in the hallway. "I want to put something together for their new place." He said. "Would you help me?"<p>

"Sure."


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter Forty-three**

"I think you should take it." Hotch said, one afternoon while he and Clara were having a stroll about the patient garden.

"I want to. I mean, this opportunity will not come around again." She replied. "But I just have to wonder if we've all done enough."

"The sins of the fathers only hold through seven generations. If my count is correct we are eight times removed." He smiled at her. "They want one of us, I'm not leaving the Bureau and Sean wouldn't. And you're right about this opportunity not coming around again. Take it."

She took a deep breath. "All right, I will." She said. "Thankfully I shouldn't have a problem starting after the first of the year."

"They don't need you before that?"

"Not day-to-day. Right now they're repairing structure. They don't need a curator, they need a contractor."

"Structure?"

"That earthquake we had a while back? Damaged the kitchen walls and part of the roof."

He just blinked at her. "That was back in 2011." Most historic structures had been repaired immediately.

She smiled. "I know. I have my work cut out for me."

"I don't think the job could go to anyone better."

* * *

><p>A few days later, after much poking and prodding, Spencer sat in his hospital room with Hotch, Morgan and Garcia and waited for the sword of doom to fall. In the end it would be up to Hotch, they would hear what his limitations would be moving forward and then, per Bureau policy, his Unit Chief would have to decide if he could still do the job within those limits. He thought he could, after much consultation with everyone doing any scrap of research on the subject, along with the best endocrinologist and cardiologist he could find.<p>

Those last two were the ones Clara saw. She did have an excellent eye for good doctors.

Now it was time for the treatment plan. Savannah came in and they sat to go over details. "Diet," she said, starting at the top. "Cut out the junk food, no surviving on sugar."

"Amen to that." Morgan said.

"The big thing is to eat breakfast every day. As strange as it sounds eggs with hot sauce have been shown to be the best at increasing oxytocin levels. Bananas are also good. And baked goods, not in excess but eat something from a bakery every day. Errr..." She stopped and looked him over. "I take that back, you could stand to gain a few. Eat what you want. Coffee doesn't affect it but getting a good night sleep does so stop the caffeine six hours before bedtime if you can. Otherwise eat a healthy clean diet as much as you can."

"Right." He'd eat what Clara ate, at least when he was home. That was a rule she lived by,

"Exercise. Every day if at all possible."

Morgan grinned. "That means I'm gonna take you running."

"No you're not." Savannah replied. "Running increases your cortisol levels; that's an oxytocin antagonist, it will have the exact opposite effect. Keep walking in daylight, for at least thirty minutes a day. On top of that cycling and swimming are excellent ways to build cardio and strengthen your heart; you can try that in a few weeks. As for the Bureau I can give you the paperwork to get out of the running test if you need it." Spencer groaned. "What?"

"I've had a waiver for a while." He said. "This whole thing started when I was trying to clear it off my file so one of my co-workers would stop giving me a hard time about it. I thought I was stable enough to handle the drop."

"I said..." Morgan started.

"Well if he gives you a hard time now he can sleep on the couch." Savannah said with a smile.

"What?" Morgan looked shocked. Spencer just grinned at him.

"Limitations in the field..." Savannah went into the next section. This is the part where everyone held their breath. "Given that you only seem to experience sharp drops in response to very personal traumatic events you shouldn't have a problem going into the field. The question is one of duration. If you take care of yourself and keep in contact with your support system, _all_ of your support system, you should drop at a fairly slow rate. But I wouldn't push it past two weeks. After fourteen days in the field you need to come home for a few."

They almost never went out more than a week. Almost never. "Got it."

"And no traveling to somewhere without a medical infrastructure; Canada, London, Paris for example, fine. Some place like Afghanistan not so much."

"Okay."

"Now the one big concern, given that it is a job hazard and you've already been there _three times_, is being held hostage by someone. That's why we're not putting you on medication to maintain your heart rate, there's no point if you can end up with an interrupt in your dosing schedule like that."

"Is there anything you can do?" Hotch asked.

"There is and we did." Savannah reached over and unbuttoned Spencer's shirt, easing back the bandage over the newest surgical scar on his chest. Just under it was another rounded lump. "Internal defibrillator, most of the time it will just sit there and monitor, but should your heart go back into V-tac it will automatically shock it back to normal. And this will happen." She picked up the testing remote and pressed it over Spencer's chest.

He didn't feel anything but all of a sudden his teammate's phones all chimed an incoming text and an alert popped up on Garcia's screen. "Ooo!" She said, and started typing something.

"If that goes off, call in the cavalry. Keep your card with you. I know it's also on the web, on your bracelet and Penelope has it, but keep it in your wallet too. You have to avoid magnetic scanners, including metal detectors at airports and courthouses. Hopefully your badge will help with the pat down." Savannah said, patting the bandages back. "And remember, no more MRI's."

"I'm not going to complain about that." Spencer said.

"Okay, that was waaaay too easy to hack." Garcia said.

"What?" Spencer blinked at her.

"Not the controls but the monitoring data stream." She turned the screen to show the small window showing the pattern of his heartbeat thumping at a reassuringly strong pace. "Now I'll know you're okay out there." She looked up at Savannah. "Can we get one for all of them?"

"I wish." She replied, looking at Morgan.

"Just not when I'm at home, all right?" Spencer said to Garcia. That was the last thing he needed to worry about, Garcia wondering why his heart rate was going up.

"Did Clara get one of those?" Hotch asked.

"No. Implanted devices are trickier for diabetics, and given that she doesn't have the risks he does and she's already on a med schedule it was easier to add an antiarrhythmic drug to her list." Savannah replied. She checked her notes again. "That's it." She said.

They looked at Hotch and waited. "A fourteen day limit in the field would keep you out of deep cover situations." He said. "But I can't see us using you in that position anyway. If we need you overseas Morgan can go and you can consult over video link, you work together well enough for that. Nothing else is any reason to keep you out of the field." He finally nodded. "You can come back when you're cleared for full duty."

Spencer sagged in relief. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"Six weeks." Savannah said. She smiled impassively at his wordless protest. "No lifting for two. After four you can go back on desk duty but I want you to give it at least that long before you risk firing your weapon. Let your heart and chest heal. And remember, that thing will only go off if it has to, make sure it never does."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Okay, go get out of my hospital. I'll see you all at dinner." With that Savannah was out.

"Now let's try this again." Morgan said, lifting his suitcase as they collected up to leave.

Hotch stepped into the consult room, where Clara had been meeting with her other doctor and giving space for what was official Bureau business in the end. "Ready to go?" He asked Clara.

"More than," she said with a smile. "Remind me to get Dave a thank you gift for letting us use his guesthouse while the apartment is being finished."

"He loves anything involving cooking." He picked up her bag. "I assume everything is all right."

"As good as can be expected; it's going to take me six months to get off some of these meds again but I'll get there."

"Good, because I registered for two slots in the Backroads Century."

She laughed at that as she stepped out and took Spencer's hand. "Aren't we taking liberties?"

"Isn't that what brothers are for?"


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter Forty-four**

Coming home was everything the first coming home should have been.

Granted 'home' was Dave's guest house at the moment, but it was cozy and comfortable and private. "I set it up for family." He said.

"You mean Joy?" Spencer asked without thinking.

"I mean _family_." Dave replied.

There was a great deal of bustling about to get them settled. Dinner was had and luggage brought in and kids to hug and reassure that they were okay. But eventually everyone finally decided to go home. Spencer closed the door behind them all and leaned against it for a long moment. Then he threw the lock.

"Are we really alone?" Clara asked.

He understood what she meant. For the first time they were alone, really and truly alone, no Unsub watching them, no doctors or nurses coming in unannounced, no endless stream of loving visitors. "Yeah, we are."

"We are."

"We are." He knew what he was thinking, was a little embarrassed with himself that it was the first thing he was thinking of, would not say anything unless she did. But it was there, now that they were alone.

She met his eyes and smiled. "Make me stay?"

He reached for her and pulled her into his arms and claimed her mouth with his.

He thought she'd never ask.

* * *

><p>For the first few days Spencer and Clara did nothing but enjoy each other's company, helped by some unpleasant weather. They window shopped online, read, watched movies, and loved as often as they could. And enjoyed the one thing Clara had deliberately asked someone, Hotch in the end, to pick up for her. "I do still like that coffee pot." She admitted as she crawled back under the covers, her robe falling open to reveal perfect ivory skin. "The one thing Carrington was right about."<p>

"He was also a really good matchmaker." Spencer said, reaching for her.

She set her mug on the nightstand and allowed him to pull her to him. "This is true."

One night they started slow dancing around the kitchen, a prelude that became a metaphor. Spencer had never felt so blessed.

* * *

><p>Over the two weeks after they got out into the city more and more. Therapy was important, Clara had some meetings for her new job and she had to replace everything. Thankfully Nana Hotchner had been a big believer in insurance. And one day their friends met at Spencer's apartment for a pizza and book packing party, so he wouldn't be tempted to lift the boxes. All except for Hotch. "I'm kinda surprised he's not here." Clara admitted<p>

"He's working on something for your new place." Kim replied.

"What?"

"Can't tell. Sworn to secrecy."

"Now that makes me nervous."

* * *

><p>All and all it was a good time, a special time to remember. But by the fourth week Spencer was ready to get back to work.<p>

"Reid." Hotch called to him on the day he got back. "Can we talk in my office?"

There was still a bit of a lingering vibe of being called to the Principal when you went into Hotch's office. But Spencer took a deep breath and closed the door. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Hotch replied, meant to be reassuring. "I just want you to know...if we needed another Morgan in the unit we would hire one."

That was...unexpected? Helpful? "Oh."

"You have unique gifts you bring to the table; you don't need to copy Morgan's as well."

"JJ does."

"Which is something we need to work on. Just know that whatever reasonable accommodations you need to make to stay in the game do it. You have our support, both officially and as friends."

That meant a lot. Actually it was huge. "Thanks." Spencer stepped out and considered this. What would be helpful when he went back in the field? What would make it more than just good enough?

He headed to Garcia's lair.

* * *

><p>A week later he stepped out of the hotel in downtown Tulsa and smiled up at the early winter sun.<p>

Spencer had asked Garcia to help him out with two accommodations in the end. Thanks to the first one he turned left and started walking. He'd resisted getting his own tablet for a long time, mostly on aesthetic terms, but between Clara and the team and now this he'd finally caved. He still preferred paper case files for speed but for personal matters these things were just so darned handy.

That had been his first request. _Please help me set up a tablet._

He had already looked up what he wanted and memorized the map by the time he got to the first turn. A second and a number of blocks later, all briskly walked to get his heart beating and to let him savor the brisk, clean air, he reached a well-regarded local bakery. He drank in the sweet scent of the place while he had them fill a box and he collected two large coffees. While Clara couldn't enjoy baked goods while he was away, she had other options, and he could use the calories.

Goodies collected he went back to walking, this time past the hotel and to a local diner where he collected two to-go bags. Their team was not big on breakfast. Hotch and Kate, Morgan and JJ all liked to go running in the morning. Kate was dieting, JJ swore breakfast made her ill and the guys relied on protein shakes to get them going. But Spencer just couldn't rely on stale doughnuts in a police department break room; he was under doctor's orders to have the real thing. So that had been his second request to Garcia_, whenever possible please put us somewhere near a bakery and a place that makes breakfast._

He took the to-go orders and goodies back to the station, to the conference room where they had set up, where he met his most unlikely companion. "Good Morning." Dave said.

"Good morning." Spencer put the coffees down on the table and passed over one of the take-out orders, the one containing a bowl of fresh oatmeal. "Did anything happen overnight?"

"No, thankfully." Spencer pulled out his own breakfast and pulled over the latest notes. "What are you eating?" Dave asked.

"Breakfast tacos," Spencer replied, "Eggs, chorizo, black beans, pepper jack cheese and salsa verde." He was already warming up from the spice; he'd discovered that he loved hot sauce. "It's a local favorite."

"I can feel my cholesterol rising from here." Dave said.

"How can you eat that so early?" JJ asked as she came in the door. "No, don't." The first morning they were out, while he was working on a breakfast plate in a diner in Carlsbad, she had come in for coffee and said that. Spencer hadn't replied, he'd just done what his therapist suggested and pulled on her sweatshirt. It was baggy and loose on him, causing her to immediately stop and suggest he get seconds. Now he reached for it and she batted his hands away. "Forget I said anything. Anything new on the case?"

"No." He replied. "But I was thinking..."

* * *

><p>That night, when they finally went to bed, that tablet came in handy again. Spencer had packed along some things to help make a bland hotel room cozy, namely his softest bathrobe, a sweetly scented candle, and a way to heat water for tea. Now he was sacked out on the bed reading and listening to music, taking some needed downtime, if only the hour before sleep so he could sleep. Just then his tablet chimed an incoming message. "Hey." He said, feeling better already.<p>

"Hey. You alone?" Came that familiar soft Virginia accent.

"Yeah, why?"

"I finally got my hair fixed." She said. The tablet signaled that she wanted him to open a video link. "I want to see what you think."

He opened the line. Her hair looked good, it was shorter and much darker than it had been, closer to her brother's, but it worked on her. It was also all curls; curls he knew would be silky and soft in his hands, fun to toy with at night. But he only had a moment to look at them.

She was in the bathtub.

Oh _heavens_.

"How was your day?" She asked.

"Getting better," he replied. His days were getting better all the time.


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter Forty-five**

It was a gray and blustery day in DC. Hardly seemed like a day for making history. Likely it was for the best though, kept the tourists down to a minimum. "Don't wander where you can't see me." Hotch told Jack, who looked bored anyway.

"There you are." Dave said as he approached the small group. "That's quite a hill. Do not say I'm getting old."

"Why are you here?" Spencer asked. "Not that I'm complaining, but..."

"You're making history. I have a thing for history these days, given that I'm rapidly becoming a part of it." He looked around. "They really put the graves that close?"

"Yes." Hotch replied. "At the time The General had been winning the war, the quartermaster in DC had lost his son in battle and wanted to take personal revenge. He deliberately chose this site for the cemetery and started the burials close to the house so no one would ever be able to live here again."

"The family must have been thrilled." Dave said with all due sarcasm.

"Actually Clara said it was Mary Anna who was the most angered by what happened." Spencer said. "This was originally her father's house and the only home she'd ever known. According to family legend The General wasn't that upset."

"He never turned a soldier away for anything." Hotch said, "Even a final place to rest."

Just then the front door of the large building opened and Clara stepped out with an older man in a suit. "...wanted my nephew here for this." She was saying. "My grandmother would have wanted that."

"She would have." He agreed. "Martha was a remarkable woman." Introductions were made all around, before he held up a ring of keys, mostly modern but one was old and brass. "This should come with a formal apology." He said.

"But we know that's not going to happen." Clara said with a gentle smile.

The man took a deep breath. "All I can say is welcome aboard." With that he handed her the keys.

A couple of curious tourists had wandered over. "What's going on?" One asked.

"Oh! The house and museum are getting a new curator in a few weeks." The older man said. He gestured to Clara. "Dr. Clara Lee."

"Ohhh," the tourist said as Clara nodded the acknowledgement, "Any relation?"

"Yes, actually," she looked down at the key in her hand and smiled. "I hope you enjoy your visit."

"Oh! Um, thank you."

They took their leave of the older gentleman and meandered away from the shocked tourists, Clara tucking her hands around Spencer's arm. "That's going to be fun." Hotch said, as he looked at what she was doing.

"It's going to be on the new brochures." She replied as Hotch stopped them. She stepped out of the way as he adjusted Spencer's arm to the proper position for a Tidewater gentleman escorting a lady. "I doubt many will read them, or care, but it will be out there, and for what we're doing I could use the social capitol."

"What are you planning?" Dave asked.

They started walking again. This time when Clara took Spencer's arm it was a graceful, natural movement. Hotch hadn't said a word but he nodded his approval. "That." She said, nodding at a site just passed the house that was cleared for construction. "We're re-creating the old slave quarters."

"Are you excavating?" Spencer asked.

"We can't. We can't disturb the cemetery. But we can base it off other sites, give a good idea. Usually when you see an antebellum home you only see it from the planter's point-of-view, if you want to see the slave's side recreated you have to go to a special, separate museum. We want to show balance, both sides of the coin here. A fair representation," she sighed. "That's all that ever mattered to Nana."

"She'd be proud of you for this." Hotch said. "But she'd be proud of the work you did at the school as well."

Clara turned a warm shade of pink. "She was." She said. "You know, I expect you to help with one of the new displays."

"Oh?"

"You too," she said to Spencer."

"Um, what can we do?"

The General was known for his unique ability on the battlefield." She said. "He was able to take everything he knew about the opposing leadership, from how they had behaved in previous battles to their education to their background to how they acted in daily life and use that knowledge to get into the mind of his opponents. To walk around in their shoes, he would say. From that he was able to predict their movements. That was how he won so many battles against such odds."

Dave started to chuckle. "You mean Robert E. Lee was a _profiler_?"

Clara nodded. "That's the only way it can be explained. I'd like to put up a display explaining that, maybe making the connections to the present day."

"I guess it runs in the family."

"I'd be honored to help." Hotch said, with Spencer nodding his agreement.

"Can we go decorate the tree now?" asked a clearly bored Jack.

"Tree?" Clara asked.

"We're adding to your collection today." Hotch held up another ring of keys.

* * *

><p>The building was a remodeled factory, on the banks of the old Chesapeake and Ohio canal, looking over Georgetown. "Two blocks to the street car." Hotch said as they got out. "Three blocks to the University shuttle to the metro system. Four blocks to the main campus. And a fifteen minute ride to Arlington, all on bike paths."<p>

"Perfect!" Clara agreed.

Security was excellent, of course. Once inside the apartment Hotch blocked her view of the public rooms. "You have to do this in order." He insisted. "Go see your bedroom."

Spencer took her down to show her their private space. It was done in a beach cottage theme with antiques, more than a little familiar. "Go see the rest first." He said as she turned to him, love and wonder in her eyes. "We can come back here."

"We will." She replied.

The other bedrooms had been made into Spencer's office, the better to keep case files out of sight, and a deliberately plain guest room just waiting to be changed in the future. In the main room Hotch stopped her and deliberately covered her eyes. "Dining room last." He said.

"Why?"

"Trust me." He walked her to one point and stopped, making sure she couldn't turn. "Look."

The room was large, with a wall of glass in the old mullions looking over the park like canal. It had a fireplace, a piano, the antiques they had found, and a big sectional couch with lots of room to find places to cuddle or to sit with friends. "I love it!" She said. "But who are these?" She went to the two fluffy balls on the couch and touched one, which then unfolded and stretched and started to purr.

"Company for when we're on the road." Dave said, "Not that Munchie won't miss you."

"I enjoyed his company." She replied with a smile.

"Look! Look Aunt Clara!" Jack was practically jumping in the corner of the room, which was currently occupied by a large Christmas tree safely tied to two pillars.

Clara tugged on a rope. "Good idea with kittens in the house."

"Once the tree comes down this would be a good place for a hammock." Spencer said.

She smiled at him. "It will be."

"Everyone is coming over with pizza in a few. We're decorating your tree tonight. Not the dining room yet." Hotch covered her eyes again and walked her to a different part of the space, "Edwardian enough?"

"Ohhh!" As it turned out all they'd had to do with the kitchen was paint, change the cabinet doors and the light fixtures and add a few details and bits of trim. Out with the sleek dark brown wood and dark grey walls, in with rustic cream cabinets and pale blue-green walls. Even Hotch had to admit that it made it a lot lighter in here, and the light made it easier to work. "It's perfect!" She said. "I love it!"

"And now the dining room." Hotch turned her to face it and couldn't help but grin as she gasped.

Her entire collection of teacups was on display.

"I thought they were all broken!" She said, "How?"

"I had Kim introduce me to your alumni coordinator, who let me join your class's Facebook group. Then I explained what happened, and everyone sent a replacement." He said with a smile. "But that's not all." He tugged her over to the cabinets to have a look. "This one is from DAR headquarters."

"Given not nicked?" She asked with a smile.

"I know taking a souvenir is traditional, but this one was given I swear." He replied with a smile. "And this one is from the UDC."

It was mostly black with a heavy, gilded design, perfect for a princess in mourning. "Not a surprise." She said, "What about those two?"

Those two were simple, modern designs, one bright red, the other a bold blue. "That one's from the Congress Park Bloods, this one's from the Southside Crips." He explained. "This one is from the PTA at Bishop Walker, when the gangs heard about it they insisted." Clara just started laughing. He pointed out the simple, Italian design from Dave, the frilly one from Garcia, the ones from Will, JJ and Henry, from Morgan and Savannah, from Kate and her family, from Alex and James and even one with a Union Jack sent from Emily. "And then there's this." He said, pointing to the tea service, done in a delicate black and white pattern.

She picked up a cup and looked at it, "Colonial Virginia Toile?"

"All of Mary Anna's china was lost in the war. But this would have been known to her and to her family before her." He smiled. "I picked up a set for eight..."

"Enough for a family." She came over and hugged him. "Thank you. This means so much."

"You're welcome."

"Why the space though?" She asked, pointing to two empty slots in the middle of the display.

"That's for these." Spencer said from behind her.

When she turned he was holding two cups and saucers. Unlike all the others they were very nearly plain, a classic shape in cream with only a simple, gold band around the rim. She picked one up and turned it over. "The Wedding Band pattern?" she asked.

Hotch stepped away. "Jack." He called to his son, who was petting the cats. "Let's go start bringing in ornaments."

"Okay."

"I'll come help." Dave said. But before they left he turned just in time to see Clara step lightly into Spencer's arms.

He did like seeing his family happy.

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p>And so we come to the end of another story. Once again much thanks goes out to my Beta reader, the amazing REIDFANATIC.<p>

Now I have another story kicking around in my head, one that might be set in Europe and such, but first I have a story to finish. I have to get JJ home. Just be a bit patient, I haven't written very far ahead so it might take a couple of days to get back to my regular posting schedules.

Thank you all for reading. Your comments mean so much.

- TKL


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